8, The Knight of the Sun
by Penelope-Jane-Avalon
Summary: Arthur has ruled successfully for many years. His children are grown, Camelot is prosperous and there is peace throughout the five kingdoms But somewhere his old adversary is plotting his downfall and he must face her one more time. A shadow is falling over Albion and the light of the great king is fading. Can Merlin's magic save his dearest friend or will darkness descend forever?
The Knight of the Sun

Morgana Pendragon gazed at her reflection in a mirror. For the first time in many long years, her beauty had finally been restored.

When Merlin struck her down on the battlefield at Camlan, it had seemed that all her hopes and dreams had come to an end.

Her immortality had been defeated by a sword forged in a dragon's breath. Such a weapon was the only thing that could have killed her and as her body crumpled to the ground, just as with any mortal, her spirit began to free itself from her corpse.

But Merlin had wielded the sword at the end of the battle and even as he moved away in search of his king, the thieves and beggars had appeared on the field, eager to rob the dead and dying of their valuables.

As a half starved woman grabbed Morgana's limp wrist, Morgana saw her chance. In just a second her spirit migrated from her rapidly, cooling body into the body of the beggar woman.

Had no one touched Morgana's corpse until all its warmth had seeped away, she would have died. Her spirit would have entered the world of the dead. She would not have gone to her ancestors among the stars for her unfinished business on earth would have tied her to the mortal world. Like Lancelot she would have wandered among the living, unseen and unloved, a malevolent echo of what she had once been.

But fate had intervened and given her spirit a new body to inhabit.

It had not been easy. Though the beggar-woman had been malnourished and weak, she had fought against the loss of her identity and it had been years before her appearance had really begun to change. For days the woman would lose herself completely, unable to remember what she had done or where she had been. Often she would look at her reflection in a glass or a pool of still water and see a face staring back that she did not recognise.

However, eventually, her spirit was burned away completely, totally consumed by Morgana's power.

In the years that followed Morgana raised an army of Saxons and mercenaries and attacked Camelot. But once again her forces were defeated and she had been thwarted in her attempt to kill Arthur.

Only later did she learn that the man who had taken the bolt meant for Arthur had been Sir Lancelot, the 'real' Sir Lancelot. To Morgana's fury, somehow he had done the impossible and returned from the world of the dead.

The defeat had been hard to bear, but still Morgana could not and would not rest. Nothing would stop her until she had taken her half brother's place on the throne of Albion and so she waited and plotted, positive that she would find a way to achieve her goal.

As the years passed the face that looked back at her in the mirror began to lose its beauty and the thin body become thinner still. Morgana's spirit was simply too powerful for the body it had taken and so Morgana made the decision to find another one in which to dwell.

After a long search she found the beautiful daughter of a farmer. The farm kept the girl's family well fed but they were not rich and thus the girl jumped at the chance to become Morgana's maid.

Morgana then smothered the girl with kindness and the girl responded by becoming as devoted a servant as anyone could have wished for.

When she thought the time was right, Morgana began to feign illness and as she lay in her bed coughing, she told her servant how terrified she was of dying alone. She asked that the young woman stay near her at all times.

After that, all that was needed was for Morgana to pick her moment and take a poison that she knew would kill her almost immediately.

With the servant only yards away, Morgana took the poison and then cried out in anguish.

As she crumpled to the floor she held out her hand and gasped her last words….."Help me!"

The girl dropped everything and ran to her mistress, seizing hold of Morgana's outstretched hand.

And in that second, before the servant had had time to realise that her mistress was dead, Morgana's spirit migrated into her body.

The transformation was quicker this time, for although the new body was physically stronger, Morgana knew the young woman inside out. It was easy to bend her mind and eventually to break it. In just few short years anything that was left of the farmer's daughter had been completely obliterated and in her place stood, Morgana Pendragon, more beautiful and powerful than ever before.

It was early Spring. The days were slowly, lengthening but it was still chilly. Morgana stood on the quayside of a shabby fishing village. Beside her stood Grendel, a Saxon mercenary. A big man, standing nearly seven feet tall and powerfully built, he was nevertheless looking nervous. His name meant 'crusher of bones' and in his time, he had done more than his fair share of 'bone-crushing', but he had never come up against anyone or anything like Morgana before.

He knew he was in love with the witch woman and thus eager to please her, but he feared magic. He did not understand it. In combat, he was unbeaten. However, he was fully aware that all the physical power in the world could easily be undermined by sorcery. He also loathed snakes and right at this moment he and Morgana were waiting for a boat to take them somewhere where he would have to face both the hated reptiles and the dreaded magic.

Not for the first time he asked, "Why do we need this creature? You have power enough of your own."

Morgana scowled. "I have told you before. I need his knowledge of the tunnels and I need his creatures to clear the way for our men."

"And you really think he will help you? He despises all contact with the human world."

"I can give him what he desires the most, so stop questioning me! I would go alone but I need someone to make sure that the boatman waits for me while I meet with the this so-called 'Snake King'. If you are afraid, then find one of your men who is not!"

Grendel could never do such a thing. To show weakness in front of his men would be unthinkable.

"I am not afraid," he snapped, "and anyway the boat is here."

A grizzled elderly face peered up at them from a boat that looked as if it might sink at any moment.

The craft was as ancient and dilapidated as its owner and yet Morgana immediately descended the iron rungs fixed into the quay, and without assistance, boarded the boat.

Grendel hurried after her, anxious to appear as fearless as the witch.

The old man held out his filthy hand.

"Payment first," he demanded.

Morgana fixed him with a stare that would have terrified most men, but the old boatman merely blinked at her and kept his hand outstretched.

He had nothing and so he had nothing to lose by facing up to this strange woman.

No one else would take her, he was sure of that and it was obvious that she knew it too.

In fact, everyone else Morgana had asked had denied all knowledge of the whereabouts of the 'Snake King'. Most had told her that he was nothing but legend and the old boatman had seen the anger in the witch woman's eyes as she debated whether or not to punish those who she probably knew were lying to her.

When she merely walked away, the old man imagined she must not want to draw attention to herself. There was something very secretive about her and he could only assume that she was engaged in some sort of dark, magic.

Morgana, took some coins from her purse and literally dropped them into the old man's hand.

"We leave, now!" she commanded.

The old man sat on the bench seat, picked up his oars and began the laborious task of navigating the small boat out of the harbour. Once past the harbour wall, he hoisted a sail and slowly the small craft began a tortuous progress along the rocky coastline.

At first there were only steep cliffs, cliffs that looked too hostile for any man to climb. Only the birds called these cliffs home and as the boat sailed on, seemingly millions of seabirds circled, and screeched in the sky above.

The waves that crashed against the base of the cliffs were fierce and as the water thundered in and out, the old man struggled to keep his inadequate craft off the jagged rocks.

The wind too was fierce, whipping up the waters into a surge of white foam. Soon Morgana's face was wet with icy spray although she barely noticed it. She had only one thing on her mind and a bit of cold water was not going to divert her.

Eventually the boat rounded a pile of tumbled rocks, jutting out into the sea and ahead of them Morgana could see the great gaping holes of the sea caves.

"Which one?" she barked.

The old man pointed and steered the boat carefully towards the rocks.

The swell made it difficult, but somehow he managed to manoeuvre the craft close enough to a large rock, around which he threw his mooring line. Then he hauled the boat in close.

"You can get out here," he said, "I can take you no nearer."

Morgana glowered at him, but she did not argue.

With some assistance from Grendel she managed to get onto the rocks and find a secure footing.

"You will wait for me," she commanded, "as long as it takes and," here she fixed her eyes on the old man, "if you should even try and double-cross me, I will hunt you down and your death will be more painful than you could possibly imagine."

Grendel could not see how the old man had any choice but to wait. If he so much as attempted to untie the boat Grendel would introduce the old man to the sharp end of his sword..

Morgana found that the wet soles of her leather boots could gain no purchase on the slippery rocks and several times she nearly fell. But finally she was walking along a narrow ledge into the gloom of a small cave.

With one word, the torch she was carrying burst into a bright flame and it lit up the darkness of the interior.

For a moment, as her eyes adjusted Morgana could see nothing then gradually she started to look around her and there he was…..the 'Snake King'.

He was not at all what she had expected.

He was half sitting, half lying only feet from the water's edge. Despite the damp and cold of the cave, his torso was naked. For all Morgana knew the rest of him could have been naked as well, for his lower body was covered with what appeared to be a few old sealskins.

She had been told that he was horribly deformed and covered with scales and yet what she could see of him was surprisingly attractive.

He could not have been more than 15 or 16 years old. He had dark wavy hair, which fell down over his strong shoulders and large luminous eyes that would undoubtedly have melted the heart of any maiden.

Why she wondered were people so afraid of this boy?

But even as she wondered, she found her answer.

From the gloom came the snakes. They slithered and hissed from every dark corner of the cave, until Morgana found herself totally surrounded.

As the boy flicked his finger, three massive, snakes reared up from the water and hauled their huge, bodies onto the rocks. Their bodies were greater in circumference than Morgana's waist and for just a flicker of a second, even Morgana was afraid.

"What do you want, witch?" asked the Snake King. "Why do you intrude into my kingdom?"

Morgana pulled herself up to her full height and stepped forward. The snakes hissed and opened their mouths. Venom shot out from their fangs and crackled on the slimy rocks.

"If you get one drop of my pet's venom on you," the boy said, "it will dissolve your clothes, then your skin, and then your bones."

Morgana paused.

"I have a proposition for you," she said. "I need you to show me and my army the way through these caves to the old copper mines at Badon Hill."

"The tunnels are blocked by rock-falls," said the boy, "and even if I could show you the way, why would I? You are a witch. Use your magic to find your own path."

Morgana shook her head impatiently.

"I have no time to waste. You KNOW the way and your great snakes can force their way through the rock-falls and clear a pathway."

In fact Morgana probably COULD have used magic to find the way through and she COULD have used magic to try and blast the tunnels clear of rubble. But to do so would have been dangerous. Using her power to open up a collapsed tunnel could just as easily cause a landslide. What she needed was something more precise.

"And what do I get in return?" the boy asked.

"I…..…I can cure you." Morgana told him slowly, although she was beginning to wonder what exactly she was supposed to cure, for the boy seemed perfectly healthy to her. Indeed, she could see no evidence of scales or deformity.

"It is said you have a skin ailment," she continued, "although I see no sign of it. Have I been misinformed?"

He stared at her for a moment and then motioned her to come closer.

The snakes parted and Morgana stepped forward until her feet were touching the sealskins that covered him.

Very deliberately the Snake King pushed the skins away.

Even Morgana found it hard not to gasp in horror at what lay underneath the coverings.

From his waist down, his body was deformed by large scaly warts. His legs were huge compared with the rest of his body and his feet were two misshapen lumps of flesh. Somewhere in the folds of scaled skin there was evidence of toenails, but these too were deformed, yellowed and twisted.

Morgana wanted to look away but found she was transfixed by the horror that had been uncovered before her.

"C…cover yourself," she commanded. "I do not need to look at your flesh to cure you."

The boy's eye's narrowed.

"Then cure me," he said, "and I will get my pets to open the tunnels for you."

Morgana smiled faintly. "Oh I don't think it is that simple, do you? If I cure you then you can set your creatures on me. If you have everything you want, you will not need to honour your side of the bargain. I will make you another proposal. I will cure one leg and then when you have kept your part of the bargain I will cure the rest of you."

The Snake King appeared to take a moment to consider this, but Morgana could see that he was not going to refuse her. As soon as she had mentioned the word 'cure' his eyes had lit up with a kind of excited desperate longing that he could not conceal.

Before embarking on her mission to find him Morgana had found out everything she could about the 'Snake King' and she knew that he did not live in a cave, surrounded by poisonous snakes, because he had chosen to.

He had been cast into this dark place by the people of his village.

His mother had been born with magic and had also been the village midwife. However, once she had delivered her own deformed son, the village women no longer wanted her anywhere near them or their unborn children.

Nobody knew who had fathered the boy, but rumours abounded that the father had been some sea monster, some unmentionable thing from the deep, that the woman had lured with magic to be her lover.

For six years the woman and her son stayed in the village, but they were hideously poor. On the edges of society, the woman took to making a living any way she could. She began to use her powers and not in a good way. Unscrupulous people paid her to curse their neighbour's cattle, which then sickened and died, or to enchant food or milk so that it spoiled and caused terrible, maladies.

Eventually, the village elders called a meeting and as a result, the woman and her child were driven from the village.

But she did not go quietly. As she stumbled along, ahead of a mob of angry villagers, she began to chant and curse them. Without thinking the man nearest to her stuck his pitchfork into her back, to silence her.

She died instantly.

The deformed child who she had been carrying lay trapped under her body, his eyes bright with terror. The man with the pitchfork lifted it again, but someone with a kinder heart, stayed his hand.

Then he lifted the child and carried him to the water's edge. There, he placed the frightened child into an old boat and pushed it out to sea. The current swiftly bore the boat away, but not before the villagers heard the stream of unintelligible words that poured from the boy's lips.

His terror had unleashed his own latent powers and in that moment the 'Snake King' was born.

How he survived, nobody knew. They only knew that he did and that he had power over the water snakes that plagued the fishermen.

Sometimes he would be seen in the ocean, swimming like a fish with his great flat misshapen feet. Always, the snakes would accompany him and the fishermen would turn their boats around and go home empty handed, rather than face him and his creatures.

And so the boy was always alone and Morgana knew that most humans craved company. She could feel the boy's loneliness and she knew how much he wanted to be 'normal' and walk in the sunshine.

She knelt down. The large snakes reared up, but the boy quieted them with a soft hissing noise.

Morgana stretched out her hand and slid it under the sealskins. Her hand touched his cold lumpy scaly flesh and she began to speak the words of the old religion.

Beneath her fingers, she could feel the change in the boy's flesh and in less than a minute she knew it was done.

She stood up and stepped back.

"Take a look," she urged.

The 'Snake King' inched his covers aside and gasped as he saw the smooth unblemished skin of his right leg. He stretched it out where he could see it properly and wriggled the toes on his perfectly formed foot.

Despite his obvious wish not to show any emotion, Morgana saw the glint of tears in his eyes and she felt a moment's pity for this poor boy. It had been a long time since she had pitied anyone.

Morgana smiled as she stepped back into the boat.

"It is done," she said, with a satisfied smile.

"In a few days the way will be clear. When that happens we will start to send men through the tunnel to Badon Hill.

None of the warriors must be seen carrying weapons in the valley and most must remain in the caves. The Saxon encampment by Bardon Hill has been established for many years and the people live in peace and have long traded with Camelot. Without anyone knowing, you, Grendel must see that the camp's leaders are killed and that the rest of them are taken prisoner.

Who knows? Once they know that a Saxon army is coming to invade Albion, they may wish to join us. If not, then once the battle is over, we can use them as slave labour."

Grendel marvelled at her conviction. This witch woman had no doubt that she would win this battle, even though she would be taking on the mighty, King of Camelot and his legendry army of knights and bowmen. No King in the five kingdoms was more loved or revered by his people. Single-handedly he had brought peace to the land and his reputation was known across the world. The capital, Camelot, was a huge and thriving metropolis and the lands that surrounded it were rich and productive. It was certainly a prize worth fighting for, but Grendel was far from certain that it would be a fight that would see the witch woman's army on the winning side.

In fact the reason for Morgana's confidence was a simple one. She knew that she would have the element of surprise on her side.

Every one thought she was dead and since Arthur had made allies of all his neighbours, the people of Albion felt safe and secure. They had become complacent and lost their wariness of foreigners.

When everything was ready, Morgana had a small number of ships ready to create a diversion. While the ships of Arthur's allies were chasing the Saxon boats away from the northern coastline, further south, Morgana would be sending her mercenaries ashore in small groups, straight from the ocean into the sea caves. From there they would trek through the miles of tunnels and caverns until they finally reached the workings of the old copper mines, less than a day's march from Camelot.

Already some of her men had started horse trading with the resident Saxons and some fifty horses had already arrived in the valley. The residents of Camelot were so used to trading with their local Saxons that no-one thought the introduction of a large number of horses was strange or suspicious. For their part, the local Saxons were similarly pleased by the arrival of the horse traders and so saw no reason to fear them.

Thus, in no time at all, many of Morgana's men had been fully integrated into the life of the Saxon settlement.

Gawaine looked hopefully into the skies over the castle. He had sent three birds north for news of Percival but none had returned and he was beginning to worry.

Ever since his marriage to Joanna, Percival had divided his time between Camelot and Joanna's family home near Lindisfarne. But he never stayed away from Camelot for more than three of four months and this time he had been gone for nearly five.

"Where are you Percival?" Gawaine muttered to himself and frowning, he went to find Arthur.

The king was at the training grounds watching the young knights being put through their paces. He smiled when he saw Gawaine.

"Come to train?" he asked.

Gawaine shook his head.

"Not today, but I did want to talk to you about something."

Arthur followed Gawaine into a quiet corner.

"It's Percival," began Gawaine, without any preamble, "he's been gone way too long and none of my messages have been answered. If you have no objections, I'd like to go north and see what's going on."

Arthur offered no objections.

"I too have been worried about him," he admitted. "Do you want to take someone with you?"

"No, I'll be fine on my own. I'll just gather up a few things and I'll be on my way. Any idea where Merlin is?"

"He's gone to visit his mother. She is very elderly now has been unwell lately."

Gawaine grimaced, "That's a shame. I have just this day finished the potion he makes for me for this damn leg of mine."

He thought for a minute.

"I suppose I could manage a few days without it. I hardly feel any pain from it at all these days."

"It's a long ride," warned Arthur.

Gawain shrugged, "I'll be alright. I'd rather not delay now that I've made up my mind to go. If I can, I will return with Percival, if not I will send word as soon as I am able."

"Well, if you're sure. May the Gods speed your journey."

When he finally reached the border of Offaland, Gawaine was nearly crippled with pain. Whatever was in the potions Merlin prepared for him, Gawaine never felt anything other than a vague discomfort. Now, without his medicine, Gawaine was realising just how much he relied on it. Although he knew that he was only a few hours ride from Percival's lands, he was simply in too much pain to ride on. Days in the saddle had taken its toll.

Grimacing, he climbed gingerly off his horse and threw his pack onto the ground. As quickly as he could, he gathered enough wood to make a fire, ate some dry bread and cheese, which was all he had left, and collapsed into a fitful sleep.

The next day, pain woke him early and after a quick wash in a nearby stream, Gawaine gritted, his teeth and set off for what he hoped would be his last hours on horseback….. at least for a couple of days.

The castle, formerly the home of Percival's father in law, rose out of the morning mist. It stood on an island, in a river. From the shore to the drawbridge stretched a long wooden bridge. A boy was driving some sheep to their grazing lands for the day and he stared curiously at Gawaine as he guided his horse past the flock of noisy animals.

At the gates, two stewards asked his business.

"I am Sir Gawaine of Camelot. I come to visit my friend Sir Percival. Please tell him I am here."

The stewards exchanged glances warily.

"Our master is ill," one of them, offered, "he speaks to no-one. I fear your journey has been wasted."

Gawaine frowned.

"What d'you mean 'ill'? How ill? What ails him?"

Once more the stewards looked to each other before one of them answered.

"There was an accident. The lady Joanna she …she was killed. Sir Percival well….he ….he was hurt. He sees no-one now, so…..so the best thing you can do is leave."

Gawaine stared down at the man and frowned.

"I'm not going anywhere, friend.

Firstly, I have ridden many days to get here. Secondly, my blasted leg is crippling me and if I don't sleep in a proper bed for at least one night, I may never walk or ride again. And finally, may I inform you, Sir Percival is one of my greatest friends. If he is hurt, I WILL see him. So tell me where he can be found and step aside….NOW!"

With his hand on the handle of his sword, Gawaine urged his tired horse past the two men. He really could not be bothered to waste any more time discussing his visit. His leg throbbed as if it were being jabbed by hot pokers.

In the small courtyard a young groom appeared from the stables and Gawaine staggered off his mount to the ground.

"This animal needs food and water immediately," he said, handing the reigns to the groom and then, cursing under his breath, he straightened his clothes and headed for the castle hall.

It was dark inside, and the great room felt chilled and unloved. The usual smells of food were lacking and the room seemed cold and damp.

"Hallo?"

Gwaine's voice echoed round the gloomy space.

For a few seconds nothing happened, then a middle-aged woman appeared from one of the side doors.

She looked at him quizzically.

"Can I help you?"

"I need to see Percival. Please direct me."

The woman stared at him dismissively.

"SIR Percival will see no-one. Be on your way!"

"He'll see me!" answered Gawaine, angrily, "So either take me to him or I will find him myself."

The woman backed away.

"I have….have my orders," she blustered, "Sir Percival…"

"Excuse me!"

Gawaine pushed past her and made his way into the private rooms of the castle.

By experience, Gawaine, knew that the rooms he sought, would be on the upper floors and on the south side of the building.

So, as quickly as he could he limped through the corridors, until he came to a set of double doors.

This had to be the family apartments.

He knocked and waited.

There was no reply.

He opened the door and went inside.

He found himself in a large sitting room, with tall windows.

However what should have been a bright airy room was now cast into shadow due to the heavy drapes hanging over all the places where light could have entered.

The only real illumination came from the fire, which blazed in the grate, and seemed curiously out of place with the dank, dark feel in the rest of the castle.

A high backed chair was placed so that it received the warmth of the flames, but Gawaine could not tell if it was occupied.

"Hallo?"

Gawaine walked tentatively further into the room and saw a large foot sticking out towards the fire.

"Percival? Is that you?"

He came closer until he could see that the chair's occupant was indeed his friend.

Unfortunately, he could also see that there was something badly wrong.

Percival was slumped in the chair as if asleep. On a table beside him was a large flagon, the kind that would keep a small party of men in good spirits for at least an hour. But it had clearly been emptied by only one man. The single goblet was lying on its side, sending a red stain across the polished wood.

Percival's head was resting on the back of the heavy wooden chair and even in the inadequate light Gawaine could see the vicious scars spreading over his friend's face.

Burns… nothing else could have done such terrible damage.

Gawaine limped closer.

"Percival, it's me Gawaine. I've come to see you. Wake up."

Percival stirred.

"Who's there?" he grunted. "Who is it?"

His hands came out, brushing against Gawaine's arm. Then Percival grabbed Gawaine's wrist with a grip that nearly splintered his bones.

"Who are you? Tell me!"

"By all the Gods! Let go before you break my bloody wrist! It's me Gawaine, Gawaine d'you hear, you big oaf? Gawaine!"

Percival head snapped up and he dropped Gawaine's wrist as if it was red, hot.

"What the…Wh…Why are you here? I said I didn't want anyone here."

"I'm here to see you, old friend. You've been gone from Camelot for nearly five months, with no word. We were worried."

"Why? I didn't ask you to come here. Go Away!"

"I bloody can't go away! I can barely stand, let alone ride a horse. I need a bed for the night and I need to talk to you. What happened Percival? How was your face so wounded? "

Percival felt for the goblet and the flagon. Realising both were empty, he hurled the flagon to the floor, shards of pottery flying in every direction.

"I'm bloody blind Gawaine….blind. I can see NOTHING! But for your voice, you could be anyone standing there, friend, foe, sorcerer, assassin….. You are all the same to me now."

"But how? What happened? Tell me…..please."

Percival sighed. He pressed his head against the hard back of the chair.

"The stables caught fire. Johanna heard the horses. Before anyone could stop her she ran in to free them from their stalls. We'd had no rain for weeks …..the place was bone dry and it burnt like…..like an inferno. I tried to save her. The roof caved in. She died and I…..well you can see what happened to me. The timbers fell across my face and before I could get to my feet, the damage was done…my eyes scorched and ruined. His hands closed into fists. "What you see is what's left. I might just as well have died with, my love, for now I live in darkness. I can see NOTHING…NOTHING."

He was shouting as he finished speaking and banging his head repeatedly against the back of the chair.

"I'm so sorry…" began Gawaine.

"Sorry? Bloody sorry? So am I,…more than you could ever imagine! My life is over. Do you hear? Over! I do not leave this room, for only here can I walk un-aided. I know the position of every stick of furniture. It's all here," he thumped his head with his fist, "and I hear the echoes of my footsteps bouncing off the wall. But outside this room? I am lost, Gawaine…..a useless, bloody shadow of what I once was."

Gawaine looked about the room and pulled a stool over so that he could sit down.

"Have you spoken to the Druids?" he asked Percival, "or the Cathars? Maybe someone can….."

"No-one can do anything Gawaine. I will be blind for as long as I live. Go back to Camelot and pretend you never came here. Don't tell Leon or Arthur or Merlin or anyone. I don't want your pity. I just want to be left alone!"

"But if you come back to Camelot with me, I am sure Merlin can help you. If it wasn't for the potions he mixes for me, I'd be a cripple. In fact if you could see me staggering about at the moment, you would realise how much Merlin does do for me. Unfortunately, I could not find him before I left and I was foolish enough to think that I could do without my medicine. Believe me, I cannot!"

Percival sighed.

"Merlin can do many things," he said, "but magic cannot cure me.

Of course my family thought as you do. My Olaf and Sofia, both came home for their mother's funeral, and begged me to let them take me to Camelot to see Merlin. When I refused, they wanted me to go back to France with them. But just the thought of a journey, where I would have to rely on another person for everything, was more than I could bear. I sent them both home to their families."

He sighed.

"I do wish sometimes that they were not so far away, but it was my idea to hold the tournament that brought Sir Jacque to this part of the world. And I was happy for Sophia to wed him. It was only a shame that his cousin Nichole was so beautiful that my son was lured to France as well. Sometimes it seems as if they are a million miles away."

"It's true, "agreed Gawaine, "France is a long way. But Camelot? The journey is but a few days, even riding with a cripple like me. You could manage that journey. I am sure of it."

But Percival shook his head.

"We have both seen Merlin mend broken bones and open wounds," he said, "but restore someone's sight? That I think is beyond even his powers. It is the same as when Melora had her accident. The mending needed for her to move again or for me to see is beyond the powers of sorcery. The …the...threads, nerves …whatever you call them are just too fine. Believe me, I have investigated. I have asked every person with magic I could find and they have all given me the same answer. They CANNOT cure my blindness."

"But Merlin is better than all of them. You know that. At least come back with me and let him try."

Percival shook his head.

"I haven't been out of this room for months, nor on a horse since the fire. If I were to ride anywhere, I would have to be led like a child. I think I can do without that humiliation."

"Then we will avoid all towns and villages, " said Gawaine, "And let's face it, that won't be difficult. It's not as if this part of the world is exactly humming with people is it? In the last two days, I've barely seen another soul. If you don't mind me saying, this castle is a bit bloody remote isn't it …I mean…I mean, it's very… er.. well.. er… positioned, for defence and the like but…."

Percival's heavy hand found Gawaine's arm.

"What you are trying to say, I think, is that I live in the arse end of the world!"

For just a second Gawaine thought he saw a glimmer of Percival's slow smile, but it was gone almost immediately and as he continued, any trace of levity in his voice was utterly gone.

"This was Joanna's home. She liked Camelot, but this was the place she loved and the place where she was most happy. Now she's gone, at least while I stay here I can remember her. Her clothes are here and they still smell of her. This was her favourite chair and she touched all the things in this room. If I left, I would start to forget her and I don't want to do that. I cannot look at the things she looked at. I cannot be reminded of her smile when I see the horses running. I cannot see the sunset and remember riding out with her in the evening. These things, things I can touch, are all I have."

Gawaine scratched his head. In many ways he understood exactly how Percival felt.

Always a ladies' man, Gawaine had only truly loved twice and his first experience had not been a happy one. He had fallen for a Saxon girl who had betrayed him and Arthur. From the day of her execution, Gawaine had tried to put her completely out of his mind, but it had been many years before he could forget her. The experience had left him cynical and wary of commitment. When he had finally given his heart to his lovely Andrea, she had become his world. Her death barely three months earlier had left him utterly bereft. They had lived together for so many years that everything in his rooms reminded him of her. Now it was easy for Gawaine to understand how Percival, who wanted to hang on to every last memory of his wife, would want to stay in the place where they had shared so many happy times.

But Gawaine also knew that this solitude and constant wish to re-live the past never did anyone any good. Percival's lonely life would eventually destroy him and knowing Johanna, Gawaine was sure that this was the last thing she would have wanted. Though Johanna loved the wild desolation of the northern territories, she had always been full of life and laughter.

Gawaine looked round the dark room and wished he were not alone. He had no idea how he was going to persuade Percival to come back into the world of the living and yet he knew that he would not leave until he had succeeded.

He rubbed his hands together. He was still so cold. One of the few candles spluttered and went out and in the silence he almost thought he could hear Johanna's voice. He shivered. His imagination was getting the better of him.

He turned back to his friend.

"Percival, I understand why you want to stay here, I really do."

"How can you? She was my life, Gawaine."

"As Andrea was mine."

Percival's expression changed, his scarred brow creasing with concern.

"Surely not….you have lost Andrea?"

Gawaine nodded and then realising such a gesture would mean nothing to a blind man, he said, "Yes my friend. I too am alone. Three months now and I miss her more every day."

"But how? What happened?"

"It was the night of the winter solstice pageant. It had been bigger and better than ever and I had been enjoying the refreshments ALL day. When Andrea complained of a headache, and went ahead of me to our bed, I thought nothing of it. She had never been one for late nights. When I finally decided to follow her, I was more than a little drunk. I wished her good night and was asleep before my head hit the pillow. In the morning, when I discovered her cold beside me, only then did I remember that she had not answered me the night before. If I hadn't drunk so much, I might have realised she was unwell. I might have had time to call Merlin to her aid. But it was too late. She had been dead for hours. Merlin told me that her heart had simply stopped beating…..that in fact she had died of old age. Oh, I know she was older than me but I am sure I could have saved her if only I had not drunk much blasted wine!"

Percival stretched out a hand and grasped Gawaine's shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault Gawaine. None of us can live forever."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, both thinking of their lost loves.

But Gawaine could not let things rest there.

"Come back to Camelot with me," he urged his friend, "Just let Merlin look at your eyes and even if he can't help at least it will have got you out in the sunshine for a few days. Even in this dark room, I can see you are as pasty as a miner on his day off."

Once again, the faintest hint of a smile crossed Percival's sad face and Gawaine wondered if there was any chance that he was getting through to him.

"At the very least, please let me stay for a few days. I really cannot get back on a horse until I have rested this leg."

"What happened to your leg?" asked Percival.

"Ruddy great cart horse fell on top of me. The poor creature had got stuck in a bog at the bottom of a hill. We were trying to pull the poor thing out and it slipped. I was in just the wrong place and my leg was shattered. Without Merlin I'd have been lucky to keep it, let alone walk on it."

"And the horse?" asked Percival, ever the animal lover.

Gawaine grinned, "Absolutely fine. I broke its fall and the others managed to pull it out."

Percival scratched the scars on his face.

"Do I look absolutely hideous?" he asked.

Gawaine was glad that Percival could not see his eyes while he searched for the right answer to his friend's question.

"That bad eh?" said Percival, interpreting exactly Gawaine's momentary silence.

"No," insisted Gawaine, "It's not THAT bad at all. It just looks as if it hurts… that's all."

Gawaine knew his voice would betray him so he hurried on.

"I mean lets face it, my friend, you never were any competition for my, superior looks were you? No, your attraction to the fairer sex was always those muscles of yours and unfortunately for me, you still seem to have those."

Percival reached out with one of his big hands and his fingers touched Gawaine's skin.

He ran his fingers lightly over his face.

"Still handsome then," he murmured.

Gawaine swallowed hard.

"Hardly! My hair's so grey that Merri has started calling me 'Sir Frosty Top', I mean to say, I like a joke but….."

And suddenly Percival was laughing.

"Sir Frosty Top! Wonderful! Well done Merri!"

Gawaine tried to protest, but of course, he did not care one bit if Percival was making fun of him. Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe he could snap Percival out of this depression.

By sunset that evening, Gawaine felt he really had made progress. He hadn't yet persuaded Percival to return to Camelot, but at least his old friend had rediscovered his sense of humour and throughout the afternoon had been happy to catch up on all the news from Albion and Camelot.

As dusk fell, the woman that had tried to block Gawaine's visit, came into the room.

"Excuse me Sir. I wanted to know what you would like for your dinner and if you will be dining in your room….as usual. Oh and I also wanted to let you know that a party of wool traders have asked for shelter this evening. They have travelled from the south and they want to talk to you about buying our wool."

"My brother in law can deal with them," said Percival quickly. "They do not need to see me."

The woman curtsied, "I will tell them my lord and am I to feed them in the kitchen? Only there are ten of them and it's a bit cramped in the kitchen, what with all our own people to feed as well."

Percival frowned and shook his head impatiently,

"Oh, light the fire in the hall and feed them there. Feed everyone there if it's easier."

"We have mutton stew for tonight if it pleases you, my lord or else some cold ham and roast potatoes and erm….shall I set the top table for you my lord, with your guest?"

"Oh…..yes, yes. Just make it plain that I don't want anyone approaching. Sir Gawaine and I have too much to discuss."

She curtsied again and made to leave the room.

"Oh and one more thing," said Percival, "Do not light the candles behind the top table. One candle at each end of the table will suffice."

As Gawaine changed out of his travelling clothes, he had a chance to reflect on Percival's situation. Despite his impressive physique, Percival had always been a quiet modest man. In many ways he was quite shy and Gawaine could understand how sensitive he must be about his disfigured face. He probably imagined it looked far worse than it actually did.

But the real problem was that having listened to Percival's arguments Gawaine was no longer sure that Merlin would be able to cure his friend's blindness. If he dragged Percival back to Camelot and it achieved nothing then Percival would be bitterly disappointed. Nevertheless, at the very least, Gawaine still believed that Merlin would be able to do something to improve the terrible scars. If Percival no longer believed himself to be too hideous to look upon, then that could only make his life better.

As Gawaine pondered the possibilities, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called.

A tall, grey haired woman entered the room.

"Matilda?" asked Gawaine.

"How many other women do you know as tall as I?" she asked, smiling.

She came forward and hugged him.

"Oh, it is good to see you Gawaine. I had been praying that one of you would come north to find out what was happening and now…here you are. Thank the Gods!"

Gawaine hugged Percival's sister. She was one of the women he liked most in the world and certainly the only one he knew who was at least three inches taller than him.

"Sit down for a minute," he told her. "I need to talk to you in private."

Matilda did as he asked.

"I started to worry in February," Gawaine explained.

"Percival always came at the beginning of the New Year and always stayed for three months. He has never missed a year since he wed, so I feared the worst. But I never expected to find him like this, shut away from the world and so…so sad."

Matilda's smiley face grew solemn.

"I know," she agreed, "It is so unlike him. But grief affects us all in different ways. He and Johanna, were a match made in Paradise and without her, he just seems to have lost his way.

I have tried so hard to get through to him, without success, so I am more grateful than you could know, that you have persuaded him to dine in the hall tonight, even if we are to eat in darkness."

"And what of your husband, Soren?"

"He is well. Since the fire, he manages both our own lands and Percival's. He has little time to spare but, in truth, we can manage. Although Percival has lost all interest in the running of the estate, things go well here."

"Well, I must say that you are looking as lovely as ever."

Matilda cuffed him on the shoulder.

"That silver tongue of yours!"

She laughed, "You may not be the tallest knight in Camelot, but you are still the biggest flirt!"

She got up and held out her hand.

"Come let us go down to Percival's room. I have made him an eye patch that will, at the very least, disguise the worst of his scars and hopefully give the impression that he still has the sight of the other eye.

As I am the only lady on the top table, he can take my arm and I can guide him safely to his seat. We will be having simple food, stew, cold meats bread and fruit, nothing that he cannot eat easily. I hope that if the meal goes without any problems, he may feel confident to venture out of his room again."

"It sounds as if you have thought of everything, Matilda, and I am absolutely determined that I am going to get him to Merlin. If he won't come to Camelot, then I will bring Merlin here."

Although it was very dark at the top table's end of the hall, Gawaine thought that the meal was a success. Percival managed his meal well and by sliding his hand surreptitiously over the table he was able to find his goblet, easily enough, whenever he wished to drink and the servants made sure that it was never empty.

Most of the time they talked of Camelot and Matilda's children, but as the evening wore on, one of the wool traders got to his feet.

He bowed to the top table and raised his goblet.

"I would just like to say thank you to my lord, Sir Percival for offering us hospitality tonight. We hope that we can do business together for I hear that your sheep provide a very superior, wool. After the conclusion of what we hope will be a successful business deal, we intend to go on to Lindisfarne. May I just take this opportunity however, to warn you, my lord, that there are rumours of great Saxon ships all along the coast. Already there are many camped on in the south on Badon Hill. They say they come in peace and only to trade and my fellow wool traders, from the fenlands, have indeed done business with them. However, one of my men saw evidence of weaponry and some of us fear that it is war they seek, not trade."

Percival leaned towards Gawaine and clutched his arm.

"Did you know anything of this before you left."

Gawaine assured him that he did not.

"Before I left, the only thing on Arthur's mind was the investiture of six new knights. There have been Saxon ships, it's true, but our ships have chased them away and so far we have had no real trouble from them. There are pirates on every sea, Percival."

"But what if the Saxons are plotting something? What if the Saxons at Badon Hill are spies rather than traders? If that is the case then you must return to Camelot as soon as possible. Arthur will need you."

"He will need us both," said Gawaine, seeing a chance to get Percival to Camelot.

"How so? I am no use to him."

"My friend, those of us who stood beside Arthur before he became king, are all old men now. It is not our fighting skills he needs so much as our council. We have lived through many battles and we are all better strategists than the young men who are newly made knights. He will want our council."

"Well, he can do without mine! What use am I? A soldier who cannot tell friend from foe even when they are standing right in front of him!"

Percival flexed his huge hands and clenched them into fists.

"He CANNOT do without you!"

Gawaine gripped Percival's shoulder.

"You are important, my friend. WE are a team, you, me, Leon, Merlin and Arthur. I will NOT have you say otherwise and tomorrow, you and I will head south. Have no fear that we will see anyone, for we will travel the back roads and through the forests. I myself would rather see no-one at all until we reach the outlying villages of Camelot."

"But…"

"No 'buts' Percival. If there is about to be some sort of Saxon uprising, your king will need you and we ARE going. Now, Matilda, can you find me a physician of some sort who can give me something to help with my damned, leg. I need to be able to make far greater speed than I did on my journey here."

Matilda, caught the eye of one of the servants who took her instructions and hurried from the hall.

"Someone will be here within the hour. I will also have preparations made for your journey. And Percival?" She took her brother's hand, "Will you ride Snowdrop? He is placid but intelligent and he knows you well."

Percival began to protest, but his sister talked over him.

"You should also take a spare mount. That way you can rest one animal, while you and Gawaine ride the others. You will get to Camelot much quicker that way."

"So I am going to Camelot, am I?" asked Percival as Gawaine guided him back to his room. "Months without leaving my room and you expect me to ride hundreds of miles? I think you have taken leave of your senses."

"Would you have me ride alone, through the forest? I might run into bandits or smugglers? You may not be able to see, Percival, but one thing I have noticed is that you hear everything. I am half deaf these days. Why, a hoard of Saxons could probably creep up on me even if I was wide-awake. No, if I am to make it safely back to the king, then I need your ears."

"You're not that deaf."

"What? What did you say?"

Percival took a swing at Gawaine and his hand connected with Gawaine's shoulder just as if he had been able to see it."

"Oh steady on, will you? I'm a frail, deaf old gentleman."

"Deaf? My arse!"

"What was that? Let you past, did you say?"

And once more Percival started to laugh.

"Enough! I'll come if it will make you happy, but all I'll do is slow you down and by the end of the first morning, we will both be riding back here."

But things did not go as Percival had predicted.

After the first ten minutes or so, he felt strangely comfortable on the big white stallion named Snowdrop. The animal followed Gawaine's horse willingly and seemed to need no direction from Percival.

It was slightly more nerve wracking when Gawaine picked up the pace, but Percival found that as long as he trusted his horse not to lead him into any obstacles then all he needed to worry about was his balance. Having ridden horses all his life even keeping his balance on a cantering horse proved not as difficult as he had feared.

"Why split the forces in two?" asked Grendel. "No-one will be expecting us and the more there are of us to storm the castle, the more likely we are to secure a swift victory."

Morgana gave him a sneering look.

"Do you doubt my leadership?" she asked him.

"No, but….."

"Then you will do exactly as I say. One group will approach from the West and one will approach from the East. The army of the east will attack first and as the attention turns to that side of the castle, the main gates and the lower town, the army of the west will come forward. There is thick forest on three sides of the citadel and although the trees have been cleared for several hundred yards from the castle wall, there are still enough bushes and vegetation to provide some cover for those who will set up the ladders to scale the walls. Once our men are inside, the fall of Camelot is assured."

She fixed Grendel with a steely stare.

"Do not even attempt to make plans of your own. There will be enough men for both armies and tomorrow you will meet the commander of the army of the west."

"And who might that be?" asked Grendel.

"Ivan, natural son of Agravaine, Arthur's uncle, killed by Merlin a long time ago. He has long wanted to avenge his father's death. His army is made up of mercenaries' as well your countrymen, but all are pledged to him by more than just gold. His mercenaries are all men who hate Arthur."

Grendel shrugged, "I did not think such men existed!" he said.

"Oh they exist alright," Morgana confirmed. "When a man seems to have everything, there are always those who will seek to take it from him."

Merlin stood on the castle battlements and sniffed the air. He did not know why, but he had been feeling uneasy for days.

Every day he hoped for a bird bringing word of his friends from the north, but as yet there had been no news. He knew that where Gawaine was concerned, he should not be surprised. Gawaine had always been reckless and unpredictable and the passing years had not really changed him. Nevertheless, Merlin decided that if he heard nothing in the next two days he would send another bird northwards, in the hope that it would prompt Gawaine to make contact.

Below him, in the streets of the lower town, he could see one of the Saxon traders from Badon Hill, bringing in a cart full of pots and pans to trade.

The Saxons had been settled in the hills east of Camelot for years, now and they were well liked by the townspeople.

Unfortunately, not all the Saxons were so friendly. Recently, there had been Saxon, raiding parties, harrying the coastal villages in the north and the navy ships had been deployed to chase them off. But every few days they would be spotted again, lurking in the sea mist, a few miles offshore and Merlin could not understand why they were there. Every time they came close to the coast, they were repelled by bigger and faster ships. So why were they wasting their time? Why did they just not go away and find easier prey?

It was a question Merlin could not answer.

He blew on his fingers and rubbed his hands together. The sun shone brightly in a blue sky, already hinting that Spring was coming. But the air was cold and Merlin felt strangely downhearted.

Meanwhile, in the copper mines at Badon Hill, hundreds of men were waiting, anxious for the moment when they would be allowed to reveal themselves.

When the moment came, on a crisp moonless night, it proved ridiculously easy to overpower the trader's camp. To Morgana's surprise barely anyone wished to join the intruders and so as quickly as the caves emptied of fighters, so they were filled with the Saxon, traders and their families.

As soon as the camp was secured, the army that was to attack Camelot from the West, slipped quietly away on a circuitous route that would keep them hidden in trees for most of their journey.

They carried practically everything they would need on their backs and walked in a silent column into the darkness of the trees. Along side slithered snakes, their tongues darting forward as they tested the air for anyone who might raise the alarm.

An hour later, the rest of the Saxon army began to form up for battle. At the front were the swordsmen, mounted on fit healthy battle trained horses. Behind them were the heavily armed foot soldiers. They carried hammers, swords, pikes and knives. Their helmets were horned and they shone dully in the light of the campfires.

At Grendel's command they began to move slowly out into the valley and headed for Camelot.

By moving out in the dead of night, Morgana had hoped to get her armies to Camelot undiscovered. Then, as dawn broke, she planned to attack across the meadow to the East of the castle gates. With a huge army storming the gates, Arthur and his commanders would naturally concentrate all their military resources on the eastern side. With the residents fully engaged trying to defend the castle and the lower town, Morgana's second army would attack from the opposite side. Once their grappling hooks had been deployed and their ladders hauled into place against the castle walls, the men under Ivan's command men would storm the castle.

But Morgana was not just relying on her armies to give her a quick and decisive victory. The white dragon, Aithusa was lurking somewhere near the citadel. When given the command, the dragon would use its fiery breath to incinerate the great wooden doors of the castle and melt the portcullis. However until that moment came, Aithusa had to remain hidden.

Although the white dragon was Morgana's creature, it was still subject to the commands of a dragon lord. For this reason the dragon had to be deployed swiftly and completely unexpectedly. Once Merlin was aware of Aithusa's presence, he could command it and nothing Morgana could do would change that. She may have been a high priestess of the old religion but she was no 'dragon lord.'

As Morgana prepared for the battle, she wondered if Merlin would try and kill Aithusa. That thought gave her a moment of sadness, but she did not dwell on it. If the white dragon fled as soon as it had completed its task, then hopefully Morgana would find her pet again, when the battle was over.

There was only one thing that Morgana had not really planned for and that was that either of her armies would be discovered before they reached their goal. She had planned the routes of both armies meticulously, making sure they stayed well away from all habitations.

But someone had seen the Saxon mercenaries emerging from the caves and as Grendal's men were getting ready to march on Camelot, a boy was battering at the gates of the castle.

After a short argument with the gatekeepers, he was brought before a sleepy Sir Leon.

"This better be important," grumbled Leon, as he pulled his cloak tighter over his nightclothes.

The commander of the gate spoke up.

"There's a boy Sir Leon, orphan I think, scratches a living up near the Saxon trader's camp. He swears he has just seen hundreds of men armed to the teeth, coming out of the old mine shafts."

Leon shook his head and frowned.

"What did he say?! How could there be hundreds of men in the mines?"

"I don't know, Sir, but the way he describes it….."

"Let me speak to him."

The boy was pushed before Sir Leon. He was thin and dirty and an owl sat on his shoulder.

"Tell me what you think you saw," Leon said rather brusquely.

"Please Sir I was hunting with Kiri," he touched the bird briefly, "on Badon Hill. I heard a noise…..something that sounded…." he paused as if trying to think of the right word, "'different', I suppose. I mean we hunt there often and there are always sounds from the camp, horses, pigs…..you know. But this was…. something else. So I went to look and that's when I saw them…..hundreds of men, all carrying weapons. All those horses that them Saxons had brought into the valley were being saddled and some of the men were gathering up ladders and grappling hooks. I knew straight away Sir. I knew that it was an army."

Leon stared at the boy. How by all the gods, could an army have appeared from the old mines?

"You say you hunt there often?"

The boy nodded.

"Yes Sir…me'n Kiri. He likes to hunt in the dark…..it's his nature and he finds lots of food in the valley by Badon Hill…..lots of rabbits."

"So, did you notice the camp getting bigger?"

The boy shook his head.

"No, Sir. Until tonight, apart from all them horses, the camp has always looked the same."

"You wouldn't lie to me boy?"

"No, sir, I promise. There IS an army at Badon Hill. There are hundreds of men there and they are getting ready to ride out. I don't know if they are coming here but if they are…." His voice trailed away.

The boy was feeling uncertain now. He had thought he was doing the right thing, coming to Camelot to warn them, but of course he could not know for certain that the armed men were heading for the castle.

He looked down at his feet.

"I…..I don't know why there are so many armed men at the camp, Sir. I only know that they have NEVER been there before."

Leon had heard enough.

"Call the king and Lord Merlin, now," he commanded, "and bring me the garrison commander."

A few minutes later, a hurriedly dressed Arthur and Merlin listened to the boy's story.

As he spoke, Merlin grew visibly pale.

"It's Morgana," he said, "she must have found a way from the sea caves into the old mine workings."

"How can that be?" asked Arthur. "I've heard rumours that there was a way to the sea, from the mines, but the tunnels collapsed years ago. The mine hasn't been used since I was a boy."

Merlin frowned.

"The Saxons have been working the mines again and somebody has obviously managed to open up the tunnels and reach the sea."

"But the our ships have been chasing Saxon boats from the coast for months now. How could they have got through?"

Merlin sighed.

"I fear we have been tricked. We have concentrated all our ships in areas where there have been obvious incursions. No doubt, while our attention was diverted to the north, Morgana was landing her men further south."

"Well, at least we have been alerted."

Arthur turned to Leon.

"Send messages to all the closest castles and manor houses and ask them to send men to Badon Hill. We will not wait for re-enforcements, but ride out as soon as we can muster the men.

All the knights will ride with me, immediately. Any bowmen, who have access to a horse, will ride with us while the rest of them must follow on foot.

Leon, you will stay here and organise the defence of the castle and the town."

Leon opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur ignored him.

"Arm the townspeople as best you can and bring everybody inside the old walls of the lower town. Should the enemy get to the walls then everyone must be brought inside the citadel.

Women and children and any men too old or infirm to fight will occupy the corridors nearest to the entrance to the siege tunnels. If the worst should happen and we are unable to hold off this army, then all should flee into the woods to the North."

"Arthur, Sire, surely it will not come to that," protested Leon, "and surely I should ride out at your side. Sir Edgar can command the castle. My place is with you."

Arthur looked faintly annoyed at having his orders questioned but before he could answer, Merlin spoke up.

"Arthur, I think Leon should ride with you. Gawaine still hasn't returned from the North and there is no sign of Percival. Edgar can organise the castle and the people of Camelot. We need Leon to ride with us."

Arthur frowned as if he was still ready to argue, but something in Merlin's eyes changed his mind. Leon was older than all of them and not nearly as fast as he had been. But if Merlin thought Leon was fit for the front line, then Arthur was not going to question it.

Bohart hurried into the council chamber with Merri at his heels and soon all the senior knights were seated at the huge round table. Before the last had taken his seat Gwen appeared at the door. She was white-faced and clearly upset.

"Is this true?" she asked, "Are we really under attack?"

Arthur got to his feet and drew her away from the table.

"My love, it seems it is true and in just a few moments we ride out to meet the Saxon army. Sir Leon rides with me, as do the boys. Sir Edgar will take charge of the garrison and you, my love must help organise the women and the children for an escape through the siege tunnels should it become necessary."

"No, Arthur, no! Surely it won't come to that. In any case I ride with you."

"You cannot."

"But there will be wounded men, who will need my help…..you or Bo or Merri might….."

"Gwen, there will be no camp, no tents for the wounded. We ride out in just a few minutes and we meet our foes in whatever place we find them. I cannot have you on a battlefield. Stay here, behind the walls of the castle. You can do good here, inspire the townspeople, keep them strong."

"Arthur…"

But he had turned away and was already gathering the men together.

As the knights started to stream out of the council chamber, behind their King, Gwen, felt a hand on her arm.

It was Merlin.

"Gwen, you SHOULD leave the castle."

Gwen looked at him questioningly.

"I will send Sir Bedivere to collect you and he will take you to the derelict farm close to the Stony River. There you and Bedivere will wait until the battle is over. If there are wounded men, maybe I can send them to you, but whatever the outcome of the battle, I will come and find you."

"Why there, Merlin? Do you know where the battle will be? Have you seen the future? What will happen? Arthur?... my boys…?"

"Gwen, Gwen, I have not seen the future. I do not know what the outcome will be, but…..well, it is just better if you are close to the water. That is all I can say for now. Will you do as I ask…..please?"

Gwen nodded, although she was clearly confused.

As Merri mounted his horse Arthur leaned over and spoke to him.

"Merri, no matter what happens, do not leave your brother's side. He is a warrior like no other, you know that, but magic is more powerful than the sharpest sword in the hand of the world's greatest swordsman. Use your magic Merri. Use it on everything and everyone and keep yourself and your brother safe. Bo is my heir and you my clever son, you are his 'Merlin'. If anything should happen to me, Bohart will be king and he will need you by his side."

"Nothing will happen to you father! I will not let it!"

Arthur smiled grimly. "I have Merlin. I am sure I will be safe. Now give me your promise or I shall make both of you stay and command the castle, instead of Edgar."

Merri capitulated.

"I promise, Father."

With that he rode over to join his elder brother and the knights moved forward towards the castle gates.

It was barely an hour's ride to Badon Hill, but most of it was through thickly wooded areas. There was only one track that led directly to the Saxon camp, but it was only the width of an average cart and so Arthur's army streamed out in a long column behind him.

The bowmen, who were mostly on foot, ran then trotted, ran then trotted. Their commander had to make the decision as to how fast he should drive them on. If they reached their opponents exhausted and out of breath, their aim would suffer. On the other hand if the bowmen were too far behind the Knights, they would not be able to offer proper support.

In the end, the men themselves dictated the pace. Despite years of peace, they practiced their art ceaselessly. They were full of confidence and anxious to finally test themselves in battle.

When, ahead of them, they finally heard the clash of swords they pulled their bows from their shoulders and without need of command, formed up into smaller groups.

As soon as they broke the cover of the trees, they were ready.

There was only the faintest light in the sky, when Arthur and his knights, charged into the narrow valley below Badon Hill.

Their enemies had obviously only just left the camp and were taken completely by surprise. The knights of Camelot seemed to fly out of the darkness and it was several seconds before they reacted.

Morgana's mounted mercenaries were excellent swordsmen, but they did not joust for pleasure, nor did they train daily, so they did not have the superb balance of Camelot's knights.

Many fell in the first few moments.

Arthur himself unhorsed many Saxons and if any sought to get up again, Merlin felled them with a glance.

The bowmen aimed their arrows towards the back of the enemy army, maiming many of the Saxons, before they had a chance to engage with Camelot's forces. The Saxons wore only light armour and soon the ground was littered with dead and dying men.

All too quickly the Saxon army seemed to be failing, but although the battle seemed to be going in Camelot's favour, Merlin was full of dread. How could it be this easy?

.

Morgana had always suspected that Camelot's knights would prove too powerful for an army, which was basically made up of paid thugs and criminals. They were strong and they were fearless, but they had no formal training in the art of war and more importantly, no discipline.

It was for this reason she had split her forces in two.

There was only one thing she really wanted and that was to kill Arthur and his two sons. Once they were despatched, she would be the rightful Queen of Camelot, the only surviving direct descendant of Uthor.

Now, as she watched her men falling, there was a strange smile on her lips. At first she had been horrified to hear the clatter of hooves and the clash of swords and it was only chance that she was in one of the huts on the higher ground, when the battle began. Here the Snake King had taken up residence and his creatures surrounded the small building, covering the ground with their thick, muscular bodies

Morgana had gone to speak with the Snake King, to make sure that his snakes knew their primary targets. Now, more by luck than judgement, she and the boy had a perfect view of the carnage, taking place below.

After her initial alarm Morgana realised that everything was working out better than she could ever have imagined. Even if Camelot's finest were slaughtering Grendel's men, the white dragon would still be destroying the gates of the castle, just as planned. With Camelot's best fighters elsewhere, Ivan's wild army of mercenaries would find it even easier to overpower the men left behind.

The Snake King limped to Morgana's side. With one good leg he could walk with a crutch.

"How did the King of Camelot know that you were planning to attack?" he asked, "and why do you not use your magic to turn the battle in your favour?"

She barely glanced in his direction.

"I have no idea how they discovered my army but I see no reason why this should not work in our favour. If Arthur's men are here in the valley, then they cannot defend the citadel, can they? I care not if Grendel's stupid kinsmen fall. By now, my other army is surely inside the gates of Camelot.

These stupid brutes were always just a diversion and a diversion that is all the more effective because it is being played out here, in this godforsaken valley, and not at the walls of the castle."

The boy stared at her. Morgana could guess what he was thinking. If she would sacrifice the men of her ally, how likely was she to honour their bargain and cure him completely of his affliction?

She reached out and stroked his cheek.

"Do not fear," she said softly, "you have magic. You are like me. You too have been cast aside for being what you are. I will not renege on our bargain. Just use your snakes as you have promised and when this is over, you will sit with me, in the great hall of Camelot."

The Snake King's huge eyes seemed to stare into her very soul. Then he asked, "Why do you not destroy the king's sorcerer?"

Morgan's face darkened again.

"I cannot risk doing battle with Merlin directly. He is more powerful then me and he is a dragon lord."

She waved her hand in the air.

"See, his dragon arrives! It will incinerate half the men on the field.

Now, is the time to send the rest of your pets into battle. Send them in among those fighting below and make sure they target Arthur and his sons."

"But my pets are not immune to the flames of that great beast," protested the Snake King.

Morgana merely stared pointedly at his misshapen leg.

The boy looked up into Morgana's hard eyes and then at a sign from him, hundreds of snakes started wriggling through the wet grass towards the battle below.

Merlin spotted something different straight away. Horses and men started to shriek as the venomous creatures sunk their fangs into feet and ankles.

Bohart's own horse reared up suddenly as a huge snake spat venom in his direction. The venom missed Bohart, but momentarily distracted, Bohart did not notice the Saxon warrior behind him. The man flung his axe into the prince's shoulder.

Bohart cried out and dropped his sword.

As the Saxon bellowed in triumph and leapt forward to press home his advantage, Merri stopped him in his tracks and the man crumpled under the hooves of a stray horse.

But, Bohart was seriously wounded. He swayed in his saddle as if he might fall and blood streamed from his shoulder.

Merri did not hesitate. He grabbed the reigns of Bohart's horse and tried to find a way though the seething mass of warriors.

When there was no obvious path through the melee, he cleared the way with magic, tossing men aside with just a glance.

But the snakes seemed to be following them and although Merri killed many, more and more appeared in their place.

Merri started to panic. Bohart was barely clinging on to his saddle and it looked as if at any minute he would tumble to the ground. Then suddenly to Merri's relief, a gap appeared in the seething mass of warriors and ahead there were trees. The trees would provide cover for himself and his wounded brother and he headed for them as fast as he could.

Too late, he realised that the trees grew up against an almost vertical rock face.

A fit man could have climbed the rocks to the safety of the higher ground but a wounded man would have no chance.

Bohart was already fainting from pain and blood loss and he fell from his horse on to the ground.

Merri dismounted to help him and in that moment, three Saxons and another ten or more snakes crashed into the trees.

The man, who appeared to be the leader, said something in a language Merri did not understand and then he grinned.

Merri understood his next words.

"Two princes!"

Merri hurled the men back with magic, but the snakes came on, hissing and rearing up. He flung out his arm and hurled them away too, but more and more seemed to come from every corner. It was as if every snake on the battlefield was slithering towards them.

Merri knew they were lost.

Above them, the sky was bright with fire and in that second Merri knew only one thing would save his brother.

"Bohart! Bohart!"

He slapped his brother's face and Bohart opened his eyes.

"Bohart, call Kilgharrah, call him now!"

His bother tried to focus.

"What? Call the dragon? But…but?"

"All is lost, brother! All is lost! I cannot hold back the snakes! We will die, here, if you do not call him."

As he spoke Merri flung more bolts of light at the snakes, but still more appeared, slithering over the corpses of the dead and dying reptiles.

"Now Bohart! Now! Only you can call him! He promised if you called him, he would come!"

And Bohart did as his brother asked.

Summoning his strength, he began to shout.

"Oh Dragon….all….all is lost! Come now to our aid. We are besieged! We are dying!"

The sky above them grew redder still and a hot wind seared the trees.

From the blood red sky, the great dragon descended.

Before Merri or Bohart had time to think, the land in front of them was scorched with flame and the iron claws of the dragon lifted both men into the sky.

Up and up they went, until the battle below seemed far, far away.

"Take Bohart somewhere safe," shouted Merri, "and then you must take me to my father's side. I cannot leave him while the battle rages."

The dragon's voice boomed in Merri's ears.

"You may not command me, Prince Merlin, even though you bear my master's name. I take you north, to the castle of Lindisfarne. From there you go to the Kingdom of Mannin. Princess Anna's father has died. She inherits his throne. Bohart will be king of Mannin by her side."

"How can this be? How do you know these things?"

"A dragon hears voices in the wind, Prince of Camelot."

"But my father still fights. He needs me."

The dragon seemed to sigh.

"Merlin has commanded me and I must obey."

After that the dragon was silent and Merri could do nothing but watch the ground below, flashing past.

Then he saw a sight that brought tears to his eyes.

Far below, flames were licking up the spires and turrets of the castle of Camelot.

Men and screaming animals jostled and fought in the great courtyard. The stable block was alight and half the lower town was in flames.

Camelot had fallen.

Merri tried again.

"Please Kilgharrah, take Bohart north, but drop me in the river that I may swim to Camelot and help my people. I cannot desert them."

But the dragon was resolute. He did not even slow his beating wings. Instead he flew higher and soon all sight of the smoke and flames below disappeared in the clouds.

On the battlefield, despite the snakes, it appeared that Camelot's forces were winning, but just as the fighting seemed to lessen, another wave of Saxons appeared from the tunnels.

Merlin almost screamed in frustration. Kilgharrah could not help. Merlin had heard Bohart's cry for assistance and been glad of it, glad that Arthur's sons were safe. But now when he really needed the dragon by his side, Kilgharrah was far away.

The knights rallied to face the new threat, but they were rapidly becoming outnumbered and many of the bowmen had fallen in hand-to-hand combat. Worse than that, Merlin himself was exhausted and still the re-enforcements from the surrounding castles and manor houses had not arrived.

With every passing minute, bigger snakes were appearing all around them and every man who was attacked by these creatures fell shrieking to the ground.

A horrified Arthur began to call his men to retreat.

Slowly and painfully his remaining men, began to back away from their terrifying, adversaries.

When the moment was right, they would turn and run.

But before that moment came, Morgana finally made her move. She had thought that Arthur and his sons would have been destroyed by the snakes, but now she saw the chance to end Arthur's life herself.

Out of the sky, she appeared riding on the white dragon, Aithusa.

Before Merlin could command the creature, Morgana had flung a sword into Arthur's back.

Despite his armour, the sword penetrated his flesh and Arthur crumpled in the saddle,

Merlin roared unintelligible, words into the air and although Aithusa had been ascending at speed, the white dragon dropped from the sky, like a stone.

Morgana had no chance to enjoy her triumph. As the dragon crashed to earth, she found herself crushed beneath it.

The terrified creature struggled to lift itself off her body, but Morgana was broken.

In utter terror, Morgana realised that she had underestimated Merlin's powers. She had been so certain that he would be too distracted by the snakes to attack Aithusa.

But she had been wrong…so very wrong.

Morgana tried to speak but only blood bubbled through her lips.

She tried again.

"You…..you have lost, Merlin," she gasped. "Your precious Arthur is dead!"

Merlin tried not to look at Arthur. He could not be dead…..he simply could not….

Instead, he focused his terrifying gaze on Morgana.

Then Merlin began to chant and as he his voice filled the air the white dragon rose crying into the sky. Its piteous cries echoed round the valley as it watched swirling flames engulf the dying Morgana. In just the blink of an eye, she was nothing but ash.

All that was left to mark her passing was a scorched mark on the ground. She would never rise again.

Merlin stooped beside Arthur. A bloodied Sir Leon and the young Sir Geraint stood close by, ready to fight off any who should come close.

But Merlin's magic had cleared the ground around them.

The Saxons would happily face a thousand armed men, but not this terrible and powerful magic.

Not one of them wanted to try and attack a man who could command a dragon and who could destroy the terrible snakes with just a look.

"Help me get him back on his horse," shouted Merlin.

"We must get him off the field! While we have the chance, we must retreat"

Somehow Leon managed to organise a small group of knights and together they fought their way through what little opposition remained. Not that anyone really tried to stop them. Instead the Saxons concentrated on the retreating foot soldiers and bowmen, harrying them as they attempted to get back into the cover of the forest.

Arthur was terribly wounded, but he was not dead and he clung to his horse long enough for them to find a place to hide.

In a thicket of thorn bushes Merlin did his best to repair the damage to Arthur's back. But Morgana had struck Arthur down with a sword that had been seared by the breath of Aithusa.

It was not a wound that Merlin could heal. All he could do was follow the plan that he had made many years before.

He must get Arthur to water…..and he must do it soon.

Although ostensibly Arthur's second in command, Leon was exhausted. He looked every one of his 67years and Merlin was amazed that the old knight had managed to fight so well. Now however, the fight had utterly gone out of him and he looked to Merlin for guidance.

"How do we get back to Camelot, Merlin? The woods are swarming with Morgana's troops. There are too few of us left to fight them off. What can we do…..where can we go?"

Merlin could hardly bear to break the bad news to him or the young knights that were with them. But they had to know.

"Camelot has fallen, my friend."

"No," said Sir Erec, "how can you possibly know that? We may have been routed here. There are still many left to defend the castle."

"Believe me," said Merlin, "the citadel is in the hands of the enemy. The great dragon saw the flames as he took the princes north. I hear his voice in the wind and he, mine."

All the knights stared at each other in horror. They did not want to believe what they were being told, but they all knew Merlin would never lie about Camelot.

For a few seconds silence reigned. Sir Leon's eyes filled with tears and he dashed them away with his gloved hand, before any of the younger men could see his weakness.

"What now, Merlin? Where do we hide? How do we save Arthur or is it too…..too late?"

"We find our way to the Stony River," answered Merlin.

For a moment, Leon looked at Merlin blankly. He could see no sense in heading for the river. But in the end he merely nodded his head.

He gripped Arthur's hand.

"Arthur, can you ride?"

Arthur gasped in a painful, breath.

"I can ride…..."

Then, slowly, very, slowly the knights, their King and Merlin began to ride north towards water.

Percival suddenly sniffed the air.

"Gawaine!" he said in a hushed voice, "What is that smell?"

Gawaine sniffed. "What smell?" he asked, "I can't smell anything…..well except the horse shit I trod in earlier…..can't seem to get the bloody stuff off my boot!"

Percival shook his head.

"No, no something else….something…something far worse."

Once more he was speaking in a quiet voice as if he were afraid of being overheard.

"Where are we?" asked Percival. "Are we near Badon Hill?'

"Well…..yes. Yes we are…..a few miles away…..maybe."

"Be quiet," hissed Percival. "By all the gods, why did you bring us this way?"

"I thought," Gawaine was whispering now, "we could just take a sneaky look….you know just see if there was anything untoward going on at the camp…."

"But I can't bloody see! If the Saxons are going to war, I can't….I can't DO anything!"

"Calm down, Percival. We are quite safe. We at least two miles away."

But as he spoke Gawaine felt all the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. There was a smell and his horse was getting agitated.

As he struggled to control it, Percival said, "You smell it now, do you not? Blood, smoke, battle…death. By all the gods, that wool trader was right. The Saxons have invaded."

"We don't know that. It could be…..just a…a skirmish….bandits….. or maybe smugglers."

Percival urged his horse forward until, his knee brushed against Gawaine's. He reached out and grabbed his arm.

"That is the smell of battle and soldiers are coming this way. Get us off this track…..somewhere….anywhere where we can hide."

Gawaine strained his ears to hear any sounds of approaching trouble, but he could hear nothing but the sounds of the forest.

Fear however was etched all over his friend's ruined face.

Before he lost his sight, Percival would have faced any enemy. Now, things had changed. Gawaine knew he friend was terrified. He also knew Percival's sense of both smell and hearing, far outweighed his own. If Percival said they should hide, then Gawaine should act now, while he still had time.

His eyes scanned the forest. It was still too early for the trees to have produced a full covering of leaves but by sheer good fortune, they were in a part of the forest where the trees were mostly firs. They grew close together, making the light low and filling the woods with shadows. Holly bushes grew among the firs and Gawaine knew if they could get behind them, then there was a good chance that anyone passing along the track would go by without seeing them.

The holly was just about high enough to conceal the horses, but Gawaine and Percival would have to dismount.

Hurriedly, Gawaine tethered the horses and helped Percival to the ground. "Lie down, here, he whispered. With any luck they will go by. There is no sun and the light here is dim."

As Percival lay down next to his horse, his heart was hammering in his chest. It sounded so loud to him that he was convinced the whole forest must be able to hear it.

He gripped the handle of his sword, but it did not make him feel safer.

He reached out for Gawaine and felt his shoulder. He leaned in close to his friend.

"What can you see?" he whispered.

"Nothing yet, but whoever it is, they are definitely heading this way."

The sound of hooves and harnesses increased and suddenly Gawaine was leaping to his feet.

"By all the gods! Merlin! Leon…Arthur!"

As Gawain burst out of the bushes, swords were pulled from their scabbards.

But just as quickly as they were drawn, they were replaced, as the knights recognised their friend.

Gawaine looked at the haggard bloodied faces of the young knights and at Merlin. He had seldom seen the sorcerer look more drawn and ill and it was not hard to see why.

Arthur was slumped over his horse, his face resting against his horse's neck. Ropes had been wrapped around him and the horse to make sure that he did not fall off and his torso was swathed in makeshift, bandages.

"By all the Gods, what has happened?" asked Gawaine.

Merlin regarded him with haunted eyes.

"Camelot has fallen. We are defeated."

"No…..no! That cannot be! Who? Who has attacked us…was it the Saxons from the traders camp? They have not the manpower…. surely"

"Yes, it was the Saxons and they outnumbered us five to one. Morgana found a way to bring them through tunnels from the sea to the old mine works."

Merlin rubbed his head, his expression lightening just a little.

"But at least you are here, Gawaine. I had not thought to find you in time…"

"And I am here too."

Percival stumbled clumsily out of the trees, following the sound of the voices.

He held out his hand in front of him and Gawaine mouthed the words, "He is blind," and Leon immediately slid off his horse and went to take his friend's hand.

"Percival! So good to see you, even though this is such a terrible day."

Percival shook his head.

"If only I could see you and if only Gawaine and I had reached you in time to help."

"It would not have made any difference, Percival. Our men could not have fought better. We did everything we could. There were just too many of them and while we fought at Badon Hill, another army was storming the castle."

Gawaine looked at the small group of knights.

"Are…are you all that remains? Surely not. And Arthur? He is badly wounded? Can't you help him, Merlin?"

Merlin answered, his voice full of despair.

"He was wounded by a sword which had been seared by the breath of the white dragon. It is not a wound I can mend."

"Then you are taking him to Avalon?"

It was Percival speaking.

"Surely we must take him to the lake and you must call the boat. You know, I cannot see, but I feel you are going in the wrong direction"

"We have no time to reach the lake, Percival. We are heading for the Stony River. We have only to reach water deep enough and the boat will come."

Percival nodded. "Of course," he said, "I remember Lancelot telling me that the boat can find its way to any water, where it is needed. It is a steep climb down to the water though….is it not? It will be easier to carry Arthur and if someone guides me, I can do that."

He raised his scarred face, questioningly in Merlin's direction.

"I have not heard Arthur speak," he continued, "Is he unable?"

"Percival, Arthur is unconscious. But the Stony River is close. Your strength will be welcome, when we carry him down to the water's edge."

Gawaine raised his eyebrows. Was Percival really capable of navigating the steep terrain down to the riverbank, carrying the king?

But Merlin gave him a 'look', that forbade him from voicing his concerns. Despite the hopeless nature of the situation, Merlin still had time to consider Percival's changed circumstances and to understand the blind man's need to think that he could still be of use to his friends.

"First we have to find Gwen and Sir Bedivere," Merlin said, "They should be at the ruined farm. We must go now. We have no time to waste."

As he collected the horses, Gawaine looked back at the group of knights who had survived the battle. They were all fine young men, among the finest who had ever served at Camelot. But they were so few. Counting himself, Leon, Percival and Bedivere, if they could find him and the young men, waiting anxiously for direction, they numbered only eight trained knights. How could they hope to win back Camelot?

They soon came upon the ruined buildings of the old farm and as they rode up to the front of the main building, Gwen burst out of the only remaining door.

Bedivere was hot on her heels, but he slowed to a complete stop when he saw his king, slumped over his horse.

"No!" he gasped, "No! Tell me you have not lost the battle."

Gwen was not interested in the battle. She ran to her husband and immediately she was running her fingers over the bandages and talking to him, trying to raise him from his stupor.

She turned to Merlin.

"Merlin…..how has this happened? Why does he not respond? I cannot rouse him. Do something…please. And my boys, where are my sons?"

Gwen looked round wildly as if expecting the two princes to appear from the trees

Merlin got off his horse and hurried to her side.

"Gwen, Bohart and Merri are safe. Kilgharrah has taken them north to Lindisfarne. They are quite safe, I promise you. As for Arthur, don't you think if I could do something I would have done it by now? He has been struck down by an enchanted weapon. Only greater magic than I have can save him. We are on our way to the banks of the Stony River so that I may call the boat from Avalon."

Gwen frowned.

"How can you call the boat? Avalon is miles from here."

Gawaine had come to stand beside them.

"Remember what Lancelot told us, Gwen. The boat can appear in any body of water, river, sea or lake. Please don't worry. We are all here now and we will go together."

Gwen turned her gaze on Gawaine, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Gawaine…I…I thought you had gone north to find Percival…..oh he is here too."

"Yes, I am here, Gwen, but of little use to you or anyone else. I cannot see."

He walked slowly towards her, feeling his way over the rough ground with cautious steps and for the first time, Gwen noticed his scars.

"Percival! What has happened to your poor face? This is not a battle wound, surely."

"No, it is not. We had a fire. Joanna was killed. I am so sorry I did not answer any of the messages from Camelot. I am afraid I am just a burden to you all."

Gwen's face was full of sympathy. She reached out and took the tall man's cold hand.

"You are never a burden, Percival and when Arthur recovers, he will tell you so himself. Just the fact that you and Gawaine are with us again, makes me feel that we will get through this awful situation….somehow."

She looked questioningly at Merlin and he gave her a faint smile.

"We will get through this, Gwen, but we must hurry."

Soon, they caught their first sight of the river, but just as Percival had warned the banks were steep and so they stuck with the decision to carry Arthur down to the water's edge.

"Aren't we going to tether the horses?" asked Percival.

As Gawaine took Percival's arm, Merlin answered.

"We will not be needing them, where we are going. It is better we leave them free to forage. I will be able to find them again when the time comes."

Even though Percival was still physically one of the strongest of the knights, he needed all his wits about him just to negotiate his own way down to the river. He was thus secretly relieved when Sir Lucan, Sir Gareth and Sir Mark took on the task of carrying the king.

However, eventually everyone was standing on the bank and Merlin was stretching out his hands over the murky water.

As he spoke, a swirling mist obliterated all sight of the opposite bank.

"What's happening?" Percival asked Gawaine.

Despite the coolness of the day, he was sweating. If only he could see, he would know what to expect. Instead all he could do was listen to the sounds around him and hope against hope that he wouldn't make a fool of himself, by falling into the river.

Gawaine strained his eyes, trying to look for something in the dense fog that was surrounding them all. He thought he saw the shadow of a dragon's head.

"It's the boat, Percival. It's here."

Percival heard a grating sound as the boat came up against the bank. Kay greeted them, his voice muffled by the mist, which seemed to deaden all sound.

"Quickly," commanded Kay, "Get Arthur into the boat, first. Take off his socks, boots and gloves and press his hands and feet against the hull. Hurry! We have little time! Everyone, get in and find a seat. We cannot stay here. Even now the Saxons are coming."

Percival knew that Kay was speaking the truth, for very faintly he could hear the sounds of horses coming towards them.

Clinging to Gawaine, Percival moved towards the sound of Kay's voice. He managed to climb into the boat without mishap and sat down on the nearest bench seat, with a sigh of relief.

The young knights knew little of Avalon and were mystified by the boat and the strange instructions barked out by the boatman. But, whoever this man was, they felt instinctively that they should obey him. They were few and the Saxons were many.

"Percival!"

Someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"Lancelot? Is that you? I'm afraid I can't see you. Accident….I'm blind."

"It's me, old friend. I have come to help and believe me it does not matter much if you can see or not. The fog is so thick than I can barely see my own hand even if I hold it in front of my face."

"Oh…. I thought there was a mist or something. I can feel it on my skin. I am glad to hear your voice, but how is Arthur? I need to know what is happening. Is the magic from the boat helping him?"

"Have no fear, Percival. You are all safe now and the boat is doing its work. Soon we will be in a place of safety. Just be calm. No harm can come to any of you."

But Percival could not relax. He felt strange and his eyes ached, as if worn out by the effort of trying to see.

"Gwen, Gwen…is that you?"

It was Arthur's voice.

"Yes, yes it's me. I am here. How do you feel?"

Arthur slowly pushed himself up until he was sitting. He could just make out Gwen's face, peering worriedly into his.

"I….I'm….I feel fine. But, where the hell are we? I can't see a thing."

"On the boat from Avalon."

Merlin's face loomed out of the fog.

"Thank the gods, we got to the boat in time. How do you feel Arthur?"

"I feel absolutely fine. But where are we going? We need to regroup and get back to Camelot."

The silence in the boat was deafening.

"What is it?" Arthur snapped, "Why has everyone gone quiet?"

Merlin told him.

"Camelot has fallen, Arthur. We have been defeated."

"No…no. I don't believe it!"

"I would not lie to you, Arthur. At this moment, there is nothing any of us can do and so we are going to a place of safety, where we can rest until it is time to reorganise."

"It's time, NOW, Merlin. My people need me. I cannot just run away and hide while my people are being slaughtered! Get this boat to the shore so that I can find a horse."

"Arthur, you have been badly wounded. You must rest."

Gwen squeezed Arthur's hand, but he shook her hand away.

"Gwen, I CANNOT run away!"

"You are not running, Arthur."

Kay's quiet authoritative voice interrupted.

"You have ruled Camelot for nearly forty three years, but now you MUST rest. What is left of your army has either fled or will be enslaved by the Saxons. Because you made such good provision for the evacuation of the citadel, most of the people of Camelot have escaped. But as I speak to you, the castle is burning and by nightfall it will be nothing more than a ruin. You have a destiny to fulfil and it is my job and Merlin's to make sure that you do fulfil it. So, please, trust me, and Merlin and allow me to ferry you to a place of safety. There you will have time to make plans for your future."

Arthur fell silent for a moment.

Then he asked, "Merlin, I cannot see anything in this dammed fog. Who is with us?….Merri…. Bohart? Are you here?"

"The boys were taken north by Kilgharrah. They will be at Lindisfarne by now…..with Anna, Caitlin and the children. Anna's father has died. Bohart will rule Mannin by her side. Merri will go with him."

"So, they are both alive?"

"Yes they are."

Arthur gave a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods that Caitlin, Anna and the children were not in Camelot when it was attacked. I could not have borne it if anything had happened to them."

Arthur got to his feet and stumbled towards the front of the boat.

"Kay, that is you…..isn't it? How on earth do you navigate in this fog?"

Kay smiled. "Magic is a wonderful thing, Arthur. This boat virtually steers itself."

Lancelot dipped his hand in the water and licked his fingers. Fresh water, not salt. Where were they going, he wondered? He had known nothing of this mission until Kay had run into his chamber that morning, demanding that he come to the boat, immediately. Now he understood the reason for Kay's haste.

In his wildest dreams Lancelot had never imagined that the end of Camelot would come so suddenly and now he wondered what, if any, his part would be in what was to come next. He thought of Melora and wished he had had time to tell her where he was going. Could it be that he would now be called upon to serve again as a knight of Camelot and if he were to join his old comrades, when would he see Melora again? He stared into the mist, looking for some clue as to where they were might be going, but the mist was just too thick.

Leon felt something in brush over his eyes and he flicked it away impatiently. He too was straining to see where the boat was taking them. He needed to know in what direction they were travelling so that he could find his bearings as soon as they disembarked.

Again something fell over one eye and again he brushed it away before suddenly realising what it was.

He put up his hand and tugged.

By all the stars, he suddenly appeared to have hair! It was his own curly hair that was falling into his eyes, hair he hadn't had for years. As his curls had become more and more sparse, he had finally taken the decision to shave them off completely, so how could he now have hair again and not just thin wispy hair, but the thick hair of his youth? This day was getting more and more unnerving. Had he lost control of his senses? He was an old man and yet he suddenly realised that he felt as if his whole body had been renewed. He felt fantastic. He felt…young!

Of course he must be dreaming. He WAS an old man and if today was anything to go by, he was no longer fit to ride into battle. He had completely failed to keep Arthur safe. He was no longer physically able to keep up with the young knights and now he appeared to be loosing his mind as well. He was suddenly glad of the thick fog. At least no-one would see him tugging at imaginary hair. He sank back against the side of the boat and tried to ignore the strange sensation on his head.

Soon the boat was pushing its way through shallow, reedy water. Every so often the keel of the boat would grind against the bottom and the passengers all wondered if they were about to run aground. But the boat just moved forward at the same speed.

Lancelot went up to the front of the boat and stood beside Kay.

"Is this it?" he asked quietly. "Is this the end of Camelot?"

"In some ways, but I assure you, there is more to come. Arthur and all the people in this boat have a future."

"Am I part of that future?"

"One day, you will be. Now you are only here to see your friends and reassure them."

Percival clutched Gawaine's arm. He held his face up towards the sky.

"Are we there yet?" he asked. "I feel somehow that it grows dark."

Gawaine, patted his comrade's arm.

"Yes, I think we are close. The boat is slowing."

"And Arthur? He really has recovered"

"I am fully recovered, Percival" Arthur reached over and touched Percival's shoulder.

"I can't tell you how pleased I am that you have come back to us and I am feeling better with every passing minute. This boat is doing me the world of good."

"Me too," agreed Gawaine. "My dammed leg has finally stopped throbbing and I haven't even had my medicine."

Merlin smiled at their conversation. As Avalon's magic ran through the bodies of the older men, they were changing.

Already, although they could not yet see it, their grey hairs were vanishing. Leon sat up straight and Percival began squinting as for the first time in many months, he thought he could see shadows.

The boat came to a stop quite suddenly and Kay leapt out onto a rocky ledge.

Tangled vegetation hung down a steep wall of rock and as Kay tied the boat to a thick creeper, the fog vanished.

The younger knights looked at each other in amazement. The years had fallen away from the king and his old knights. They were now men in their late twenties, men in their prime. The queen too had changed and she was once again the beautiful young woman Arthur had fallen in love with so many years before.

"What the….what, by the sun and all the bloody stars, what in the name of all the gods, has happened to us?"

Arthur stared at his wife and she stared back at him, open mouthed.

Percival reached out to the mast of the boat, to steady himself.

Was he dreaming? Suddenly it seemed he could see. But he could not really be seeing, because his friends were all young men again.

He rubbed his eyes then pinched his own arm.

It hurt! Maybe he wasn't dreaming.

'Need a hand, Percival?"

Lancelot had already jumped onto the ledge next to Kay.

Percival shook his head.

"I can see you…but ….everyone looks young again. Is that how you are seeing them too…or am I just imagining that I have my sight back?"

Lancelot grinned. At last, something to be really happy about on this terrible day.

"Everyone is young again Percival, including you."

Percival's smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Really? Thank the gods…or I suppose thank….. Merlin?'

"Merlin!"

It was Arthur speaking. He was staring at his reflection in a pool of rainwater.

"Why have you turned me into a child?"

Merlin shrugged.

"It was the boat that effected the change, but to be absolutely honest…..well…..you were getting a bit er past it weren't you?"

Arthur punched him on the arm, clearly secretly both amazed and delighted by the change.

"So my annoying sorcerer friend, you have restored me to my fighting best and yet it appears I am to do nothing with my new found youth except run away and hide. Where is the sense in that?"

"We are not running away. We are sensibly retreating and going somewhere safe."

Arthur made a face. He felt ready to take on the world single handed, but Merlin had turned to Kay and Lancelot and taken each man's hand in turn.

"Thank you for coming to our aid."

Lancelot knew that Merlin was telling them that it was time for them to leave. He got back in to the boat.

Kay was already untying the rope and as soon as he jumped aboard, the boat began to move away.

Lancelot took one last look at his dearest friends and waved goodbye. He wanted to remember their faces. In his heart he did not believe he would see them again for a very long time.

Merlin pushed aside the hanging creepers and branches and laid his hand on the smooth rock.

Beneath his outspread fingers, the rock just melted away and a large gaping hole appeared in the cliff side.

"Quickly," he commanded, "Everyone, inside."

"A cave!" exclaimed Arthur, "well I suppose it's as good a place as any, to regroup. C'mon everyone."

The young knights exchanged looks. There had been magic in Camelot for years, but they had never seen such magic as this.

As soon as everyone was inside, Merlin muttered something under his breath and the entrance to the cave disappeared.

Lights flared in sconces on the walls, but Arthur frowned.

"I am assuming you can open that again, when we need to go out. I don't fancy being stuck in a cave for days and days."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Of course!"

But away from Arthur's gaze a look of sheer anguish crossed his pale face.

He now knew what would happen and the enormity of what he faced suddenly seemed too much to bear.

Arthur surveyed the line of flaming torches. Had Merlin prepared this place especially for them to hide in?

He took Gwen's hand and led the way down a long winding passage.

Without warning the tunnel came to an end and Arthur and Gwen stepped into a large cave. The floor was covered with makeshift beds made up of furs and blankets and pillows. In one corner were piles of armour and weapons and on a ledge that ran a few feet above ground level there was food and jugs of wine.

"You knew," Arthur said to Merlin and Merlin winced at the accusatory nature of his comment.

"I did not. I hoped we could win…..I thought we could. But this place was…. ready…..just in case …just in case the worst happened."

Arthur pursed his lips.

"Well, we did our best. It just wasn't good enough. Still, I am glad about this."

He waved his hand in the direction of the armour and weapons.

"At least when we emerge from this place, we will be properly armed."

He glanced round the cave.

"But there are so few of us. How are we supposed to defeat the Saxons with such a small group? We must find others and we must find them quickly, before they are scattered to the winds. I think we should eat this food, which you have so kindly provided for us and then under cover of darkness, we should venture out and see if we can start to reform the army. Our people can't be too far away."

Merlin poured some wine into a goblet and handed it to Arthur.

The king drunk deeply and Merlin filled more mugs and goblets and handed them to Gwen and the knights.

Everyone then helped themselves to the food, suddenly finding appetites they did not know they had. In the past few hours food and drink had been the last thing on anyone's mind.

Merlin knew that there was no way his friends would be leaving the cave any time soon, but he saw no point in disclosing this to anyone, least of all Arthur. Arthur would simply never accept it.

Percival was wandering round the cave, marvelling at the rock formations and the light that played on the walls and ceiling. Towards the back of the cave there was a pool of crystal clear water. It was fed by water trickling through a crack in the rock and the constantly moving surface made patterns on the rocks as the ripples caught the light from the torches. To Percival, everything was a delight and every detail was something to be wondered at and enjoyed. He had never thought to see anything again.

Arthur yawned, as did several of the young knights. Several of them had already sat down on the rugs and furs and Sir Mark already appeared to be asleep.

"I have lost all track of time," Arthur told Merlin.

"Maybe it would be a good idea for all of us to take a rest and then you and I can go back outside and have a scout around."

Merlin nodded.

"I think that would be best," he answered.

Arthur clapped his hands.

"Listen to me everyone. This has been a terrible day, but we are alive and uninjured. We have a chance to make things right. But we are all exhausted. Let us all take advantage of this comfortable cave and rest for a while. When we wake we will be more able to face what awaits us outside. Tomorrow is another day and I believe everything will look better after we have all had a good sleep."

Nobody argued and soon everyone was getting comfortable on the cave floor.

Merlin watched, trying not to let his face betray his real emotions.

"I think you should rest as well, Merlin," said Arthur, throwing a cushion in Merlin's direction. "In fact I order you to!"

Merlin slumped down on a pile of furs.

He had not expected the magic of the cave to work so quickly, but already all eyes were closed…all except two.

Percival lay on his back staring at the shadows on the ceilings. It was almost as if he was afraid to close his eyes, just in case when he opened them again, he would not be able to see.

Gawaine let out a noisy snore and Percival jabbed him in the ribs.

"For the gods sake. I'm never going to get any sleep. Why do you have to sound like a pig at a trough?!"

"Don't" mumbled Gawaine

"And did you really have to take your boots off? Just because I've got my sight back, it doesn't mean I have lost my sense of smell. Do you ever wash your socks?"

"Do…..wash them…..just been….busy…..that's all…"

Merlin tried to smile, but his eyes were filling with tears.

Merlin walked slowly round the cave, checking on each person in turn. Only when he was sure that all the occupants of the cave were in a deep sleep did he finally turn back towards another tunnel and make his way back to the outside world.

As he stood on the cold hillside, he felt utterly bereft.

How many years he wondered would it be before he would hear the voices of his friends again?

On the day following the marriage of Melora to Lancelot, the Lady Vivienne had called Merlin to her solar. There she had told him that Camelot would fall. Merlin had argued that this could not be allowed to happen, but she had told him that it must.

"Though you would keep Arthur safe forever, and all your friends, their time must pass. What you can do," she told him, "is prepare a place where they can hide until the day when Arthur can rise again. And though is may take a thousand years, one day Arthur and the knights of the Round Table will come back. When the Five Kingdoms are in greatest danger, Arthur will return."

In his heart Merlin had always known that Arthur could not live forever, but at the very least he had always thought that Bohart would succeed his father and that Camelot would endure. Now, not only was the citadel destroyed, but the whole of Albion was over-run by marauding Saxons. Only magic had saved Arthur and the best of his knights. Magic had also given them back their youth, but how long would it be before they could benefit from this? Merlin had no idea.

He pulled up the hood of his cloak and walked away, walked into the future, desolate and alone.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle at Badon Hill, Bohart raised an army and tried to take back his father's kingdom. But in the few short months it took him to organise his men, the Saxons had seized every castle and manor. Those who could, had fled. Those who could not, laboured under Saxon masters. Behind the warriors, who had come for plunder, came many who sort the lush pastures of Albion, the forests full of wild boar and herds of deer and the tin, copper and silver mines. They came not in their hundreds but their thousands and quickly took up residence in the abandoned villages and towns.

Against so many, Bohart and his small army had no chance. It was a bitter failure for the prince and for many years he lived with dreams of trying again. But he was a pragmatic man and eventually he accepted that Albion would never be his. He would never again sit in the great hall of Camelot.

Marriage to Anna of Mannin meant that he was still a King, if only by marriage rather than birthright. But Mannin was a tiny fragmented Kingdom, made up of many small islands. It simply did not have the resources needed to raise a large enough army to tackle the invaders.

In any case, after the fall of Arthur, peace came surprisingly quickly to Albion. The end of a golden age had been swift and brutal, but what replaced it allowed many to prosper and, for a while, to live in peace with their neighbours.

And so the decades passed and Bohart ruled his island Kingdom with his wife Anna. He and brother spoke a different language and lived a different kind of life.

But thoughts of home and the lands across the sea were never far from their minds and as Bohart reached his ninety second birthday Merri's beloved Caitlin died. She had always said that she wanted her ashes to be cast into the sea at Lindisfarne and so the two brothers took the cold sea voyage to the mainland and returned to the place of Caitlin's birth.

Her funeral had already taken place on the cliffs of Mannin. As was the custom on the island, her body had been burnt on a huge funeral pyre. Hundreds had mourned her death and now all that remained was for her ashes to be returned to the windswept waters at Lindisfarne.

Merri and his brother Bohart chose to make the journey to Lindisfarne with just three knights.

It was winter with rough seas and biting winds and Merri saw no reason to inconvenience any more of Bohart's knights for such a cold and depressing journey.

Indeed if both brothers had been in better health, they would have made the journey alone. But they were both infirm and they knew that the journey across the rugged terrain from the coast to the small castle would be exhausting.

Bohart was half crippled by problems with his bones and although Merri could keep the pain at bay, he could do nothing for Boharts creaking knees and misshapen fingers.

As for Merri himself, although only a few years younger, he too found walking difficult and his once keen eyesight was failing. He still studied medicine and magic, but he could no longer read books by candlelight, or indeed daylight, without the aid of a magnifying glass and despite his best efforts to keep the effects of age at bay, he knew that time was getting the better of both himself and his brother.

Thus, as the two men boarded their ship, Merri was pretty sure that the journey to Lindisfarne would be the last one they would ever make.

On the day of the ashes ceremony the winter sun shone weakly from a cloudy sky and a biting wind blew through the castle. Caitlin's nephew, Ronan was now Lord of Lindisfarne and it was he who led the family and other mourners down onto the beach.

The urn bearing Caitlin's ashes had been placed in a small boat. The boat had been decorated with winter foliage, but it still looked depressingly sad and cold.

Merri insisted on helping push the boat into the water and as the sea lapped round his boots, he found himself thinking back to the first ever visit he had made to this place. He remembered the cheerful, chatty girl, who had teased him because she had been taller then him and he remembered the day when he had asked her to be his wife. It had all been so long ago and he still did not know how he would live without her.

Bohart had buried Anna, three years previously and Merri had seen how her loss had changed his brother's outlook on life. Now, Bohart was always looking back, back to days when the white castle of Camelot had shone like a beacon over the kingdom that he had always thought would be his, back to the days of his youth.

As a cloud covered the sun, younger men braved the grey waters and pushed the boat further out to sea until the current caught it and bore it away. Ronan dipped his arrow in a cask of burning oil and fired the flaming missile into the boat.

The old boat had been a long time out of the water and now it caught fire as quickly as dried grass. It the windswept bay it was the only bright thing and its flames streamed out over the waters like an orange pennant.

"Goodbye, my love," whispered Merri.

Tears blinded him, but he did not leave the beach until the boat had disappeared beneath the waters.

Ronan, put an arm around his old uncle's shoulders.

"You and your men will stay for a few days longer? I fear the weather grows worse and your sea crossing will be most unpleasant."

Merri thanked him for his concern, but insisted that he and his brother would begin their journey back to Mannin the following day.

Merri did not want to linger at Lindisfarne. It had too many memories and for now, the pain of his loss was just too great.

Although neither Bohart nor Merri had been aware of him, Merlin had joined the mourners on the beach.

In the years that followed the battle of Badon Hill, Merlin had often travelled north and twice seen the brothers at Lindisfarne. But he had never made himself known to either Bohart or Merri.

The Lady Vivienne had made it quite clear that from the day that Arthur and his knights had disappeared from the world, Merlin would have to 'disappear' as well. No one could know that Arthur had survived the battle. Morgana had gone for good but there were many others like her and if they were ever to even THINK that Arthur Pendragon still lived, then they would seek him out and destroy him.

So Merlin had 'died' with his king and though he could walk disguised among those he loved and people he had once known as friends, he could never talk with them or touch them.

It was a lonely life and although the loss of Caitlin hurt Merlin deeply, his heart was lifted by the thought that soon he would be able to speak to the men who had been as close to him as if they had been his own sons. For just a little while he would not be alone.

Lindisfarne was a small castle so despite the fact that Ronan and his wife had vacated their own bedroom for their guests, Merri and Bohart had insisted that they could share.

Merri was reluctant to leave his elder brother alone for any length of time and wished that he could have prevailed upon Bohart, to let him make this journey without him.

Now as darkness fell, he finished mixing together some herbs and offered it to Bohart.

"Drink this brother," he ordered, " and then you should try and sleep. You are very breathless. I should not have allowed you to come with me."

Bohart smiled, "You could not have stopped me. I would never have let you come alone."

Then he winced and slowly sank back onto the bed.

Merri covered him with a blanket and then went and sat in a chair by a small window that looked out over the sea.

He knew his brother's heart was failing and he could hardly bear to think of the consequences. He could not bury another one of his family so soon.

He was surprised when one of the young men who had helped push the boat out to sea entered the room without so much as a knock and even more surprised, when the young man's appearance began to change before his eyes.

"Mer…..Merlin? It can't be. You're dead! You died at Badon Hill!"

Merlin put his fingers to his lips.

"It's me, Merri. It really is. But please before you question me, just give me a moment to explain why I have been absent from your lives for so long…..and so that I don't have to say everything twice, can you wake your brother for me. If I do it, I might give him a heart attack."

Bohart was indeed shocked by the sight of Merlin in his bedroom and did not have the strength to even try and question his sudden appearance. Instead he and Merri listened in amazement as Merlin told them exactly what had happened after the battle.

"And so you see," finished Merlin, "I could never speak to you or give you any clue that your parents and friends are still alive. I have to keep that secret until the time when the five kingdoms are in greatest peril. Then and only then will I wake them and everyone will know that Arthur has returned to save them."

Merri rubbed his eyes. If only he could see more clearly. The man in their room looked like Merlin and sounded like Merlin and yet he did not look a day older than the last time they had met.

He was not the only one who was confused.

"But how…..why….do you look so young?" asked Bohart.

Merlin shrugged.

"I cannot grow old. I have to remain as I am for as long as it takes for me to fulfil my duty. If I am dust, who can wake those who sleep in the cave?"

Merri looked thoughtful and then he reached out and took Merlin's unlined hand in his own.

"But you never really aged did you? I remember now. You grew a beard and wore your hair long, but underneath you were always the same."

Merlin smiled sheepishly.

"I hoped that no-one would notice my ever present youthful good looks. But aging spells are very difficult to sustain for any length of time. I am much better at it now and I can almost change my appearance at will. But back then…well I had more important things to do than worry about what I looked like.

But now I come to the real reason for my visit. You are both realists, so I know that you are both aware that you have not long to live. If you go back to Mannin, I am afraid you will both be dead before the next harvest.

If you come with me tonight, then I can take you to your parents. Your youth will be restored to you and you may wait with your parents until the time comes when Arthur is needed again.

I know I am not giving you much time to think about it, but I need an answer. You have to tell me now if you will stay here or come with me."

The brothers exchanged glances.

Merri spoke first.

"I think you already know what my answer will be. My two children are grown and both live far from Mannin. When they left for their homes after their mother's funeral, I did not think I would see them again. I have said my goodbyes and without my Caitlin I have little to live for."

He looked over to Bohart.

"But Bohart cannot manage without me. If I am not by his side to mix his potions and use my magic, then he will be crippled with pain. I will not leave him to die like that."

Bohart looked fondly at his younger brother.

"It's true. Without you, I am finished. But I too have nothing to stay for. Oshin should have been king, twenty years ago. He already performs most of my royal duties. Had you not kept me alive for so long, brother, Oshin would have been king of Mannin long ago.

And Aalin? She is happily married and has no need of an elderly ailing father."

He looked straight at Merlin.

"I would not be a burden to my children, even if just for a few months. If Merri agrees, then I will come with you, Merlin. I too said my goodbyes before we left Mannin. I love my children dearly and my grandchildren, but my time is over."

Merlin was relieved. He knew that wherever Bohart went, Merri would follow. Long ago Merri had pledged that he would be Bohart's 'Merlin' and he had faithfully fulfilled that roll ever since the two of them had been plucked from the battle at Badon Hill by the great dragon, Kilgharrah.

He stood up.

"So it's agreed. But before we go we must leave a note. We do not want your hosts searching for you."

Merlin pulled some paper from his jacket pocket and smoothed it out. He placed it on a table and muttered a few words.

In what appeared to be Merri's handwriting, the note read….

"Before I return to Mannin, I would like to watch the sunrise over the castle one last time and walk along the beach, which has been the scene of so many happy days. The path to the sand is steep, but I would not presume upon your hospitality any further, by asking that someone accompany me. Bohart too wishes to walk on the beach and so he and I can walk together. The weather is fair and we have not forgotten the danger in the tides. We shall not linger on the causeway. If any of you should look for us and find us not in this room, then we will be on the beach or on our way back to the castle."

Merlin finished his creation with a Merri's distinctive signature and left it in full view on the table by the bed.

"There," he said, "That should do the trick."

Merri looked at the writing.

"If someone asked me, even though I would not remember writing such a document, I would swear it was in my own hand. There is just one problem, Merlin. The walk down to the sea is very steep and I fear it will put a great strain on my brother's heart."

Merlin pulled two glass vials from his pocket and handed one to each brother.

"Drink that. It will make you feel much better."

Merri downed his in one swallow.

But Bohart told Merlin, "I've already had my medicine."

Merlin nodded patiently.

"I know but I promise you, this is completely different."

"It is indeed!" said Merri, "I feel as if I could RUN down to the beach!"

Bohart followed his brother's example and got to his feet, unaided. It was the first time in ages that he had not had to be helped up.

"Lead on, Merlin!"

They hurried from the room and down some back stairs that led to a small door to the outside. There was no key hole and the door was only secured by bolts. As children, Merri and Bohart had frequently used this door to go down to the sea.

As they went quickly down the steep path, dawn was breaking and it was a beautiful sight.

The clouds that were rolling in from the west were all turning pink, as the first rays of the sun shone out over the horizon.

Merlin led the two elderly men down towards the water's edge.

"You are not expecting us to swim anywhere, I hope," said Bohart, eyeing the cold water that was almost lapping at his feet.

Merlin shook his head and stretched out his hand.

He began to speak and as his voice echoed across the water, a mist rolled towards them.

Out of the mist came the boat from Avalon.

Merri gave a cry of recognition as he saw first Lancelot and then his sister Melora.

"Quickly," commanded Lancelot, "climb aboard. We must be away from the beach before anyone comes looking for you."

Had anyone suggested to Merri and Bohart that they should climb into a boat, only an hour before, they would both have laughed at the idea.

Now however, with very little help, they both managed the feat remarkably quickly and as soon as they were both safely on board, the boat began to move away from the shore.

Melora hugged both of her brothers.

"I was on the beach yesterday to say goodbye to Caitlin, She told them, "I could not let you see me, because there was just a chance that someone might have recognised me and how would I ever explain my appearance? But I am here now and we have a little time to be together."

Merri beamed at his sister.

"I am so happy to see you. I was only thinking about you yesterday."

Bohart agreed. "I too am happier than I can say, to see you here. It seems like a lifetime since we three were all together. I do wish I could see your face a little clearer, however. This mist is so thick. How on earth does Lancelot know where he is going?"

"Fear not."

Lancelot's voice came out of the fog.

"The boat knows where to go and we shall be at our destination very shortly."

As the boat from Avalon was navigating its way towards channel of water that would take them to the entrance to the secret cave, on the shore at Lindisfarne, huge waves were beginning to batter the sand. Out of nowhere, a massive storm was brewing, turning the sky black and drenching the sands with heavy rain and hailstones.

As lightening ripped through the sky, men from the castle came rushing onto the causeway. But already the waves were crashing over it and obliterating the path to the mainland.

Frantically, the men shouted out for Merri and Bohart, but there was no sign of either man on either on the causeway or the beach.

The boat finally came to rest near the rocky ledge and as the mist cleared, Bohart and Merri had the same shock as Arthur, Gwen and the knights.

"By all the stars, Merri. Am I seeing things? You look about 25 years old!"

Merri laughed. He had always been more at home with magic than his elder brother.

"As do you, brother."

He turned to Merlin.

"This is your doing, is it not?"

Merlin held out his hands.

"Would that I could take the credit. No, this is the magic of Avalon. This is magic far more powerful than anything I can wield and when we step inside the cave you will see that the boat has had a similar effect on the others."

"They are young again, too?" asked Bohart, in wonder.

"They are indeed, for all of you should be in your prime, when you come to the rescue of the five kingdoms. You would be of limited use, if you remained as you were. But come with me and I will take you to see your parents. They will be sleeping and I am afraid you cannot wake them. They will sleep now, until the time is right."

Bohart frowned.

"And we must sleep too, I suppose."

Merlin could not deny it.

"Say goodbye to Melora and Lancelot," he said.

"I know you have had little time to be together, but I promise you this, you will see each other again."

Bohart and Merri said their goodbyes and watched a little sadly as their sister and Lancelot sailed away.

But they did not have time to dwell upon their parting, for Merlin had opened the rock and ushered them inside.

As they walked down the passage to the large cave, even though they had been warned what to expect, both men found the sight that greeted them hard to take in.

Both knelt down beside their parents and gazed at the sleeping faces of people they had long thought to be dead.

"They are as I remember them when I was but three or four years old," said Bohart.

"Are you sure you can't wake them," asked Merri.

"I am afraid I cannot," Merlin told him, "If I could, you know I would do it for you, but they MUST sleep until it is time for Arthur to return to the Five Kingdoms."

He pointed to the ledge on which the food and drink was displayed and suggested that they eat.

Merri and Bohart had thought little or nothing about food since Merlin had appeared but now both men found themselves to be ravenous and so despite the strangeness of the day, they sat down with Merlin to enjoy a meal.

When Merri had eaten his fill, he was once more full of questions.

How could everyone stay alive without food or water?

What if they woke up and Merlin was not there to lead them out of the cave?

What if the time came for Arthur to rise and Merlin was imprisoned and could not come to the cave?

What if someone found their way to the cave by mistake?

And most important of all….

How long would they sleep?

Merlin answered his questions as best he could, but although he had an idea as to the answer of the last question, he could not bring himself to voice it.

It was the one thing that haunted him and frightened him.

It was something he did not want to think about.

And so he lied and told Merri that it might be twenty years or fifty years or possibly even a hundred years.

"You must not worry though, for when the time comes I will be here. I will not fail you."

Merri looked over at his sleeping parents and asked another question which Merlin had guessed he would ask.

"Could you not have come to collect us before Caitlin…..before Caitlin and Anna died. It does not seem right that I am to be made new and given a whole new life while Caitlin has gone to the stars and must now wait so long for me to follow her."

"If I could have prevented the deaths of both Anna and Caitlin, I would have done it in a heartbeat. But I could not make the sea crossing to Mannin. I must stay always within the five kingdoms of this island, for I am the guardian of this cave and all those who sleep within. I prayed that you would bring Caitlin's remains home, for I knew that was the only chance I would have to bring you here."

"But you could have brought us straight here from the battlefield or collected us and our families in the weeks that followed, " suggested Bohart. "We could all have come….surely."

Merlin tried to explain.

"Your line must continue in the world. Your descendants must be able to trace their line all the way back to the House of Pendragon. Only then will people accept that Arthur is their true King when he returns.

In any case, you would not have left your children all those years ago. They needed you to guide them and teach them the skills they needed for life and if you remained, then Merri had to remain also.

I hope you understand."

Bohart smiled.

"We understand, Merlin. We have both led very long and happy lives and we have had the company of our wives and children for many more years than most men. We should not complain."

"Sorry Merlin," said Merri, "Caitlin's death is still too recent for me to see things as clearly as I should."

For a little while they continued to talk about the old days, but gradually Merri and Bohart began to yawn and eventually, they both agreed they needed to lie down.

Merlin watched them until he was sure both men were sound asleep. Then with a sigh, he turned and walked slowly up the tunnel towards the outside world.

"Goodbye friends," he whispered.

Three days later, Merri's boot and a fragment of Bohart's cloak would be found on the beach near the castle of Lindisfarne and everyone would sadly, accept that the two old men had been washed out to sea. It was nobody's fault. They had chosen to go to the beach alone and no one could have predicted a storm of such ferocity.

As the years went by Merlin would visit the cave from time to time and listen to the soft sound of breathing. Though the years passed Merlin never aged neither did Arthur, his queen, his sons or his knights.

No matter how many years went by they never looked any different.

Sometimes, when Merlin thought he could stand the isolation no longer, he would spend days in the cave. He would take his books and read and write and at night, sleep next to his friends. Gawaine especially, sometimes talked in his sleep and Merlin would answer him and allow himself a few seconds to pretend that Gawaiine knew he was there and was actually talking to him.

Sometimes he thought the time had come to wake them.

As each century dawned it seemed to Merlin that the five kingdoms were constantly under attack and he watched wave after wave of invaders come and settle in the lands from the north to the south. Not until the Tudor dynasty came to the throne did there finally seem to be a period of relative calm and security.

Merlin walked the corridors of Hampton Court when Henry VIII spent his days besotted with Anne Boleyn and tormented by jealousy and frustration.

He watched Elizabeth I as she manipulated and wrong footed all those who would have taken her throne and marvelled at the influence of a woman in an age where men still wielded most of the power.

He was in the crowd outside the Mansion House when Charles I was executed.

As watched the axe swing into the air, he held his breath. If the king was dead, surely this would be the time for Arthur to return.

But the King was replaced, by the plain puritan Oliver Cromwell and peace was once again restored.

When Oliver Cromwell died, Merlin again wondered if Arthur's time had finally come. The people certainly did not want Oliver Cromwell's son to rule them.

But though Merlin visited the cave day after day, there was no sign that he should wake his sleeping friends and before long the monarchy was restored and Charles ll took his place on the English, throne.

So Merlin waited and the centuries passed.

By the time of the Great War, Merlin had begun to think that his wait would never end. Despite terrible loss of life, the United Kingdom survived the war in tact and it was the same again with the Second World War.

Millions died but somehow the lands of the five kingdoms survived without the aide of a magical king.

And so season followed season and year followed lonely year and Merlin endured.

Sometimes, he wandered the roads dressed as an old man. Sometimes he stayed close to the cave, but by the dawn of the twenty first century he had walked each path and road a hundred times. There was not an inch of the country he did not know and there was hardly anywhere that had not changed since the days when Arthur Pendragon was king. The wild places, which had once been covered in trees, were now open to the skies and grazed by sheep and the once rushing rivers now slowed to a lazy meanders. Buildings Merlin had known and loved had turned to dust and rubble and land once home to the beaver and the otter had been drained and covered with dwellings.

Sometimes, when he saw the destruction brought about by man, Merlin felt like crying but tears never changed anything.

Instead Merlin bought land and kept it as wild and untamed as it had been in the days when he had first gone to Camelot. Then when the pressure of modern life became too much he would go to his empty places and pretend that the centuries had not passed. He would pretend that he had a friend who was a king, a friend who waited for him just around the corner, just out of sight.

But he could never hide away for too long and it was loneliness and responsibility that waited for him and haunted his days.

By the twentieth century, Merlin had become almost addicted to the news, first on the radio and then the television. Listening to the news was the last thing he did before he slept and the first thing he did when he woke.

Sometimes he felt guilty about this addiction because he knew that some part of him actually hoped for a catastrophe, hoped that something, anything would happen that would mean Arthur was needed.

However, when the time finally did come, for Arthur's return, the circumstances were not at all what Merlin had expected.

Like many others, he had paid little attention when the subject of global warming had first raised its head and he had been similarly un-phased by the outbreaks of Ebola on the African continent. Neither appeared to be an immediate, threat to the islands of the United Kingdom.

Merlin knew from experience that the climate of United Kingdom had gone through many changes. There had been decades of heavy rain and warm winters and other periods when the winters had been bitterly cold. Merlin remembered well, the great Ice Fairs held on the River Thames in London, when the ice had been so thick that hundreds of people could walk upon it without fear of plunging into the icy depths below. Yet in the centuries that followed, the river flowed freely through even the coldest days.

Merlin had seen plague too. While it ravaged the land, it seemed as if the entire population would be wiped out. But somehow the plagues and viruses always burned themselves out. Thousands died but many survived and after the dead had been buried, life always gradually returned to normal.

Thus, Merlin simply could not see how disease or changes in the weather would ever be cause for the return of his king.

Instead his focus was largely on the gradual decline of the Middle East into a state of chaos. Here, was a source of very real threat. As despotic leaders were deposed the countries they had once ruled were torn apart by rebels and religious factions. From this came terrorism, a kind of warfare that could not be dealt with by armies.

Instead men listened and watched and recorded the conversations and emails of millions, hoping against hope that they would intercept and forestall the plans of those who sought to kill and maim. But even with the most intensive surveillance, how did people protect themselves from suicide bombers?

These people were often misguided or brainwashed, rather than evil but when they wielded no visible weapon, no one could challenge them in combat. They merely stood in a crowded place and pressed a button.

Indeed tens of thousands of people died as a result of such atrocities but gradually Merlin began to wonder if these numbers were soon to be dwarfed by something that was even more deadly.

Slowly, world temperatures had begun to rise and vast areas that had once been productive farmlands turned to dust. Africa's deserts grew larger every year and in other lands, floods destroyed homes, crops and livestock.

Drought followed drought, and people found it almost impossible to keep the elephants from their crops. As a result, despite their protected status, many of the great beasts were shot and killed.

In the far north the great ice continent began to melt and huge chunks of ice littered the northern seas and oceans. The melting ice caused the seas rise and as lands disappeared beneath the rising waters, millions were made homeless.

On what was left of the ice, starving polar bears scavenged what they could from the human habitations and there were many fatalities as the animals became more and more desperate.

Conservation began to take second place to human survival and many animal species began to creep towards extinction.

In the lands that had once made up the five kingdoms, the main effect of global warming seemed to be the increasing rainfall, while further south on the European continent, it was the dramatic increase in the temperature. Parts of Greece and Southern Spain became as hot as the Middle East. Trees died through lack of water and whole forests stood cracked and bare as the soli in which they stood turned to dust.

Finally, in the face of such catastrophic changes, the world's leaders were forced to take the subject global warming, seriously. But by then irrevocable changes had already taken place and there was no easy solution.

And then amongst the millions of displaced and hungry people came Ebola. This was not a new disease but it was a new strain and one that did not respond to any of the existing vaccines.

A tide of refugees, bigger and more desperate than had ever been seen before marched relentlessly northwards and Ebola marched behind them, snapping at their heels and leaving a trail of death in its wake.

This new strain of the disease appeared unstoppable and before long it had reached southern Europe.

Overnight, borders were closed and flights to and from the United Kingdom to infected areas were cancelled.

It was a worrying time for everyone, but strangely after an initial panic, the public mood calmed rapidly. The English Channel still cut the United Kingdom off from the European mainland and with the Channel tunnel closed and patrolled day and night, the British people felt relatively safe.

What seemed to disturb everyone a lot more was the sudden and totally unexpected death of the king in a riding accident.

The king had been young and popular, but the next in line to the throne, his brother was already chronically ill. Almost totally bed bound, he was in no fit state to take on the duties of a monarch, nor did he want to. Strangely, for a member of the royal family, he thought the idea of monarchy outdated and redundant and he urged Parliament to take this opportunity to get rid of the monarchy once and for all.

There were public debates and questions asked in Parliament and Merlin watched them all, waiting and wondering exactly what decision Parliament would make.

The cost of the new border defences was already making a huge hole in the government finances and even those who had always been ardent royalists found themselves wondering if the country had the money to maintain a royal family.

And so weeks passed and no decision was made and after nearly three weeks of continuous rain, rising flood-waters in the north gave everyone something else to think about. The question of the royal succession was pushed to one side as the politicians tried to blame each other for the failed flood defences and the loss of life and property.

Once Merlin would have thought this chaotic mix of politics and natural disaster something of significance, but he had lived through too many similar situations.

Just as he had come to expect, despite all the confusion at Westminster and the threat of disease from the continent, essentially life in the lands that had once made up the Five Kingdoms went on as before.

It had been the beginning of November when the king had died and in fact it had rained for most of the month. People had got used to heavy rain in the winter, but what they were not expecting was what came next.

Without warning the prevailing winds swung round to the north and overnight practically the whole country was covered in nearly two feet of snow. It had not snowed for fifteen years and while the picturesque covering of white was a nightmare for the many, for children it was a delight. It was as if the whole world had been turned into a giant Christmas card. Schools closed early for the holidays and children enjoyed the delights of sledging and snowball fighting.

Adults were less enamoured with snow and ice nevertheless despite the fact that the infrastructure was totally unprepared for these hostile conditions, after a week of frost and biting winds, transport systems were operating again and people were getting used to their white world.

Merlin was sitting on the bus, idly listening to other passengers' conversations. He had been food shopping and was on his way home. It was already dark outside but through the steamed up bus windows Merlin could see the lights of Christmas trees shining through the darkness.

He loved this time of year. It was the one time when many people seemed kinder and more thoughtful than usual and although the nights were long the Christmas lights brought colour and illumination to the world.

"Got the sledge out of the garage yesterday," said one woman to her friend, "Kids were bloody thrilled. Of course they all came back 'ome soaked through and made a mess all over my nice clean floor, but it was nice to see 'em all having so much fun."

"Bloody cold though in't it?" answered the woman sitting beside her. "I hate snow myself. Looks nice but as soon as you try and walk on it you end up flat on your back. My Arthur went arse over tit yesterday. Thought I was going to have to take him to the doctor….but he went down the pub with his mates for a Christmas get-together, so I decided he couldn't be that bad."

She laughed, "His backside's black and blue though."

Merlin chuckled to himself, if a little sadly.

There may have been no king on the throne and the weather may have been atrocious, but most people were still happy and getting on with their lives as usual. Nothing was going to change.

He sighed. Another Christmas was coming and the end of another year.

When Merlin got in, the young couple who worked for him, Ralph and Holly, were sitting in the large kitchen drinking tea.

They greeted him warmly and poured him a cup.

"Have you seen the news?" asked Ralph, passing over a plate of biscuits.

"Not since this morning."

"There's been an announcement. It appears that after our poor sickly prince, our next in line to the throne is a card carrying alcoholic!" He grinned, "Who knew?"

In fact the antics of this particular royal personage had been the subject of many a news story and none of them good.

"Apparently," continued Ralph, "the Prime Minister wants to miss him out and go down to the next one in line. Caused an unholy row. Traditionalists say the line of succession should be followed and that the Prime Minister can't pick and choose."

Merlin shrugged.

"It will all get sorted out somehow, I expect."

Ralph nodded, "I'm sure your right. More importantly though, they've had their first cases of Ebola in Germany. It's getting closer."

Merlin put his head in his hands. He found himself remembering the dark days when plague had ravaged the land. He had thought he had left those days far behind.

"Oh well," he said, trying to sound optimistic, "let's just hope they find a vaccine soon. If we're lucky it might burn itself out before it gets much further. These things have a way of disappearing as quickly as they appear."

Ralph's girlfriend Holly looked worried.

"But what if it doesn't?"

Merlin patted her hand.

He was worried but he didn't want his young friends to know. The news that Ebola was so close was frightening. It looked as if the disease was conquering yet another continent.

But Christmas was coming and Merlin saw no need to ruin it for his young companion's lives before he had to. Maybe the freak weather had not been down to man's careless pollution and maybe Ebola would never reach them….maybe.

Merlin shook his head as if to clear his dark thoughts. In his heart he knew bad things were coming, he just didn't want to think about them. He had lived through so much death and destruction and he knew what ever happened he would survive. But he would not survive unscathed. All the terrible things he had witnessed had left their mark and though he tried hard, he could not forget.

He looked at his two young friends. They had been with him a long time and he could not bear the thought of losing either one of them.

He forced himself to smile.

"We're safe here," he assured his young friend, "I'm sure of it. Lets have supper shall we and then I have a very nice bottle of Port that needs drinking. Let's watch a good film and polish it off."

Merlin looked at the clock. 6.45am. He groaned. He had hoped to sleep at least until it was light. Before he had gone to bed the last thing he had seen had been the weather forecast and it had promised a fine day with blue skies and sunshine.

Just sticking a toe out under his duvet however, told him that it had not got any warmer.

The radiator hissed and clanked as the ancient heating system gurgled into life. He really should get a new boiler.

He pulled his foot back into the warm and pulled the covers up over his head.

The news last night had depressed him and he wanted to think of happier times, times when the winter solstice had been marked by celebrations and pageantry and King Arthur had presided over great feasts and jousting tournaments. It had been the time of year when everyone had gathered in one place, a time when he had been with all those he loved the most.

Of course today there would be no such celebrations and he missed his friends.

He shut his eyes tightly and tried to go back to sleep, but then there was soft knock on his bedroom door.

He did not answer, but the door opened slowly and Ralph crept into his room.

"Are you awake?" he asked.

Merlin grunted.

"Only I've been up to the horses and they all seem very restless. I don't know what is wrong with them, but I was wondering if you would come and work some of your magic. I just can't seem to calm them down and they always seem to respond to you."

He waited and Merlin mumbled something incomprehensible.

"I suppose it might just be the snow," continued Ralph, "Some of the younger ones will never have seen snow before and it is cold up at the stables…..really cold. There's even a white owl up there. It's just sitting on one of the beams."

Merlin sighed. Fuelled by a silly comedy film and plenty of Port, Merlin had gone to bed in a good mood. But now his good humour of the previous evening had gone and all he wanted to do was stay in bed as long as possible.

But he had responsibilities.

He had always kept horses …enough horses for a king, his queen and his knights.

If these animals were in distress, how could he fail to go and see to them?

He pulled the covers from his face and then…..

"What did you say? An owl in the stables? A white owl?!"

"That's right. I thought it would fly away when it saw me, but it was still there when I left. Must be hard for the creature to hunt in this weather. The snow is so thick and hard."

But Merlin was no longer listening.

He had leapt out of bed and was pulling his jeans on over the shorts he wore in bed.

"I'll go up, now," he told Ralph, as he scrabbled to find socks and boots.

"Shall I come with you?"

"No, you go and get some breakfast. I can manage."

Before letting himself out into the snowy darkness, Merlin reached into the depths of the cupboard under the stairs and pulled out an old cloak.

He bundled the cloak into a ball and tucked it under his arm. Then he picked up a torch from a shelf by the door and stepped outside.

The cold took his breath away. He looked up into the sky and icy snow flakes landed on his face. There were no stars and the moon was hidden behind the thick snow clouds. He had not felt cold like this for more than a hundred years.

But it wasn't the cold that was making his heart beat so fast. It was the fact that a white owl was in his stable block.

As he hurried up the hill behind his house, he tried to tell himself to keep calm, not to think that this was anything other than a wild animal that had taken refuge in his building.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was Rehan? Could this possibly be the sign he had been promised all those centuries ago.

Merlin couldn't help it. He shivered with excitement, but excitement tempered by fear…fear that this would be just one more disappointment.

As he approached the stables, he could hear the horses moving restlessly in their stalls. Maybe the bitter weather really was unsettling them.

He entered the building quietly, and shone his torch slowly round the wooden rafters.

At first he saw nothing then something shone out of the darkness.

And there it was…..the white owl!

It blinked slowly and it was the bird's huge eyes that had caught the light.

Merlin felt as if he could hardly breathe.

He lifted a gloved hand towards the rafter.

"Rehan?" he asked softly.

The bird made a soft whistling call and then on silent wings swooped down to land on Merlin's wrist.

Merlin's eyes widened.

Although Merlin had not seen the bird for more than a thousand years, surely this WAS the white owl of Avalon.

Carefully, he searched the bird for a message but there was nothing attached to either of its legs.

He stroked the bird's soft head.

"Have you come to tell me that it is finally time to wake Arthur?" he asked.

But the bird only stared at him with its glassy eyes and made no sound.

Merlin tried to reach into the creature's thoughts. Once he had been able to communicate easily with the white owl of Avalon. Now however, he could glean nothing form the bird's quiet stare.

For a moment he began to doubt, but as he transferred the owl onto a low beam, the creature whistled softly again and Merlin suddenly had an image in his head of Arthur's sleeping face.

Merlin turned away and quickly checked the horses.

As if by magic, the moment Merlin had walked into the stables, the horses had relaxed. They were now standing calmly eating the oats and hay that Ralf had put out for them. All sign of their earlier agitation had disappeared.

Merlin reached up to stroke his favourite horse. His hand was shaking.

Merlin put the cloak he had brought, around his shoulders and pulled up the hood. Then once more he went out into the snow.

He had no use for the torch. It was less than a mile to an entrance to the cave and he knew the way like the back of his hand.

As he stepped through the thick snow, he left no footprints and the cloak swirling around him in colours of grey and white, made him virtually invisible.

He trod purposefully but slower than he usually walked. He was still afraid that this was a mistake, and he did not want his dreams of a longed-for reunion with his friends, to be dashed too soon. There was always the possibility that the owl in the barn had been a trained animal that had escaped from a sanctuary. There was at least one such place in the vicinity and from time to time the birds that they allowed to fly free, did wander off. A bird that was used to human contact might very well go to a stranger, if it was hungry enough.

Then again, surely the bird had responded to its name and if it wasn't the white owl of Avalon, then why when he touched it, had he seen that vision of Arthur? Wishful thinking? Unfortunately there was always that possibility.

But, no matter how slowly Merlin walked, eventually he came to the place where the path ended at a rocky outcrop.

He paused, his breath clouding in front of his face. Before he went any further he had to make doubly sure that he was not being observed. But the hillside was deserted. There was no excuse to hesitate a moment longer.

With trembling hands, he pushed aside the vegetation that covered the smooth stone and said the words for opening. The rock melted away.

Merlin stepped into a dimly lit passage and behind him the rock closed silently so that nothing remained but a smooth hard unbroken wall of granite.

Merlin stood still. Just a short distance away, were all the people he cared about, his dearest friends. But they had been silent for centuries. In his head he thought he could still remember all their voices, but maybe it had been too long ago to be sure.

He breathed deeply, trying to slow his beating heart. Was this the day? Was this really the hour that his awful loneliness would finally end?

He forced himself to go forward, one foot slowly in front of the other and then he was at the entrance to the cave itself.

His eyes were fixed firmly on the floor, but eventually he persuaded himself to look up and into the shadows of the great cavern.

His hand flew to cover his mouth and he held his breath, almost afraid to believe what he saw.

Lying on the cave floor were three people who had never been there before, Lancelot, Melora and their son, Galahad.

They lay near the passageway on the rugs and furs, which for so long had lain unused.

It was time! There could be no other reason for the three of them to be there….surely?

With his heart beating so loudly, that it seemed the whole world must be able to hear it, Merlin went and knelt down beside Arthur. Arthur had to be the first. If he could wake Arthur then he could wake them all.

But what if Arthur did not wake? More than a thousand years had passed since the magic of the cave had closed Arthur's eyes.

What if the spell had somehow warped and failed? What if his magic was no longer enough to rouse him?

Merlin shivered again. He felt as if ice was trickling down his back.

He shook his head, trying to think clearly.

No, he would not fail. His powers were greater now then they had ever been. This was his task and his alone. There could be no thought of failure.

He stretched out a shaking hand and placed it on Arthur's forehead.

The words came to him without thought, flowing out of him like a great river, which had finally burst its banks.

In the silence of the cave his words, though spoken quietly, sounded like shouts and their echoes bounced off the cave walls.

For a few seconds, seconds that to Merlin seemed like an eternity, nothing happened.

Panic welled up inside him. He opened his mouth to try again and then he saw Arthur's eyelids move. He looked like a man dreaming rather than waking, but suddenly his eyes snapped open.

He stared at Merlin, his eyes unfocussed and questioning. Then he brushed Merlin's hand away.

"What is it, Merlin? You look as if you've seen a ghost!"

Merlin was stunned into silence. He had no idea what to say. What did you say to someone who had unknowingly slept for more than a millennium?

Arthur yawned and stretched out his arms and legs. There was something he should remember, but what was it?

It came to him in a rush.

"Camelot," he groaned, "Camelot is lost. I failed…."

The anguish in his voice was as deep and heartfelt as it had been when Merlin had dragged him from the battlefield and ordered the retreat.

Merlin shook his head emphatically.

"You did not fail Arthur. You ruled a kingdom that even now is the one by which all others are judged. For more than forty years Camelot was a light in the darkness and even a thousand years later you are still remembered as the greatest king."

"How can that be, when I let my capital burn and my people flee?"

And then it dawned on him.

"What did you say? Something about a thousand years? Tell me I have not slept so long…no, no I don't believe you!"

Merlin put a hand on Arthur's arm.

"Arthur, it is more than a thousand years."

Arthur stared at him, aghast.

"Then what, by all the gods, is the point of waking me? My people are long dead. Everything is dust!"

"Those who lived when last you ruled are all dead," agreed Merlin, 'but many escaped the Saxons. They scattered to the four corners of the five kingdoms and their descendants live on even to this day."

But Arthur could take no comfort form Merlin's words.

"But what use am I, now? Another king must rule in my place and I have long lost any rights I had to the crown."

"The Five Kingdoms are one and have been for centuries and the throne is vacant. The king has died. You can replace him"

"How can I? After so many years, no-one will know me."

Merlin contradicted him again.

"You are so wrong. Your name is spoken as much today as it was the day I brought you here. Hundreds of stories have been written about you and Camelot. You only need to appear before your people and they will recognise you as their king."

"Who would want an old man…..?" Arthur began and then he remembered.

He seized a shield from the pile of weapons lying beside him and peered at his reflection in its polished surface.

"But I am not old am I? You made me young again."

He inspected his unwrinkled hands and then for the first time looked at Gwen, still sleeping beside him and looking as beautiful as the day he had first set eyes on her.

Then he cast his eyes over all the other occupants of the cave.

"My boys!" he said in wonder, "You brought them….. and Melora and Lancelot. But who is the young man beside her?"

"Your grandson, Sir Galahad." answered Merlin. "He is Lancelot and Merlora's son."

"Another grandson," said Arthur, a smile lighting up his face.

But just as quickly his smile faded.

"But what of Caitlin and Anna and my other grandchildren?"

Merlin sighed.

"I could not bring them, Arthur. Anna and Caitlin both died in their sleep and I was not there to prevent it. They both lived very long lives and I promise you they did not suffer at the end.

You see I could never travel to Mannin. I had to stay here in this land, for I am the guardian of this place and I could never be too far away. I never knew when I would be called upon to wake you and so I could never risk an ocean crossing. I had to make sure that you were always kept safe. The powers of darkness are as strong now as they were when you last fought against Morgana. She may be long dead, but others have taken her place.

I guessed that Caitlin would want her remains returned to Lindisfarne and sure enough Bohart and Merri brought her ashes from Mannin to the place of her birth. I had my chance then to bring them here.

By the time I collected them, their sons and daughters were all grown and happily married with children of their own. Their place was with them, to guard and guide them as they grew and to make sure that the Pendragon line continued down through the ages. I would have brought them if I could. I am sorry that you are disappointed."

Merlin looked genuinely upset and Arthur suddenly felt churlish for complaining, especially when despite all the terrible things that had happened, Merlin had given him so much.

He smiled, apologetically.

"I know you have done your best," he said, "When did you ever do anything less? You have done so much for me and all I do is complain? All those years when we were young, you were always at my side, but it was only when I was dying that I thought to thank you.

You even saved me from death!"

"That was the magic of Avalon, not me."  
Arthur shook his head.

"Oh no, my friend. It was all your doing. You never gave up. Even when the light had gone out of my eyes, you would not accept it. You got me to Avalon and put me in a boat. You could have covered my body with rocks and left me where I fell, but you gave me a second chance and now you have given me another. No man could have a better friend."

He reached out and squeezed Merlin's shoulder.

"Thank you Merlin. Thank you now and always."

He looked down at Gwen.

"So, will you wake her?" he asked, "It seems so long since I heard Gwen's voice, although strangely," he cocked his head, "it seems I spoke to you only a few days ago."

Merlin looked sheepish.

"That's because I did speak to you, only three days ago in fact. Through all these long years, I have spoken to you often."

He grimaced.

"It made it easier to keep going…..to keep waiting for this day."

He tried to grin.

"You never answered though, so at least we never argued. I'm afraid Gawaine's is the only voice I have ever heard in this cave. He still talks in his sleep and I used to pretend he was talking to me. Pity not much of it made any sense."

"No change there then," said Arthur, light-heartedly.

However, he suddenly realised, how lonely and lost Merlin must have been without his friends.

"Surely you must have made many new friends," he said hopefully, "a wife or children perhaps?"

Merlin shrugged.

"How could I marry when I never grow any older? I can make my self look older with ease, but to maintain it for any length of time is almost impossible."

Arthur gave him a knowing look.

"Well it may surprise you to know that, that particular fact has been obvious to me for a long time. Did you really think that wearing your hair long and growing a beard would really convince anyone that you were keeping up with the rest of us?"

He grinned, "I mean it's not as if the white streak in your hair was ever in the same place two days running? It looked as if some demented badger was living on your head!"

Arthur was rewarded with a faint smile and once more he rested his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Tell me that you have not lived alone for a thousand years. Tell me you have some friends."

Merlin nodded.

"I do and I did marry…four times, but it was always so hard. It was difficult to find someone I could trust, someone who would accept me and my never ending youth, someone who wouldn't ask any questions when I disappeared for long periods of time, someone who would be happy without children."

Arthur studied Merlin's face.

"Did you never want children of your own?"

Merlin looked down so that Arthur could not see his eyes.

"It was bad enough burying the women I loved. To have buried children as well, would have been unbearable. And in any case, I never knew when I might be called away, when something might happen that would mean I would have to leave any family I had, alone and unprotected. I had a task to perform, to make sure that you could rise again. I could not allow myself to become embroiled in a mortal life which might interfere with my duty."

He sighed.

"When you know that those you love will always die before you, you come to accept that solitude is a less painful alternative to love and marriage."

Arthur could not hide the sadness in his face as he listened to Merlin talk of the life he had lived. While Arthur and the others had slept, oblivious to everything in the outside world, Merlin had struggled on, trying to make the best of his situation.

For Arthur, life was only worth living if you could share it with friends and family and the Merlin, Arthur remembered from the days at Camelot had always been such a happy gregarious person. Arthur could still recall all the hours Merlin had spent entertaining Bohart, Merri and Melora, when they had been little. It seemed immensely cruel that Merlin had been given a never-ending life, but with no chance to live it properly.

"I am so sorry Merlin. You have done so much for me and in return, just by existing I have condemned you to a life of isolation. There must be some way I can make it up to you."

"You already have," answered Merlin.

"You have woken up! All these years I have worried that the spell would break or falter and you and the others would turn to dust. Every time I entered the cave I lived with the fear of failure.

But here you are, alive and well. I am happier than I can say."

Arthur snorted.

"By the Gods, In your position I would have hated me…..in fact I would have hated me before all this…. before you told me that you were a sorcerer. I was so rude to you so…so arrogant. I knew in my heart that you were….were so different from me, that you understood things better than I did, but I could never allow myself to tell you. I had to feel that I was the one in charge, pathetic really when you come to think about it. And when you told me about your powers, I treated you like a leper. How could I have been so stupid? Any fool could have seen why you did not tell me before…..but not me. I just treated you as if you were dirt on my shoe. Oh, Merlin, in your place I would have left me here in this cave and trusted to fate. I would probably just have saddled my horse and ridden off around the world. I would have embraced my immortality and lived a life with no thought of this place. Only you would have stuck with such a thankless task for so long."

He reached out and grasped Merlin's shoulder again."

"You are one in a million, Merlin and the best friend a man could ever, ever have."

As Arthur spoke, Merlin's eyes grew wide with emotion. He had imagined this moment so many times, and it was almost too much to believe that the endless years of waiting had finally come to an end. If he thought about it too much he would cry, and he would not do that in front of Arthur. He would not encumber his friend with the true weight of the burden he had carried through the centuries.

He looked away, wrestling with his emotions. It was as if the enormity of what he had struggled through for so long, was finally forcing itself into his consciousness and the horror of it was making him feel as if the breath was being sucked from his body. A thousand years, he had been tied to this place. A thousand years he had lived a lie, forever in the shadows, forever on the edges of society. A thousand years, many of them alone and friendless. It had nearly broken him.

He took a long shuddering breath, before he could regain his composure.

"Let me wake the others," he said quickly, "I cannot wait to greet them."

He started to get to his feet, but Arthur put out a hand to restrain him.

"Before you do, tell me a little about what awaits us all outside the walls of this cave. Are the Five Kingdoms under attack? Are huge armies of Saxons invading from the coast, because if they are, I cannot see how we can be of any use. Not counting you and me, there are but twelve trained men here and though they are probably among the finest knights ever to grace the halls of Camelot, they cannot defeat an army."

Merlin sighed. How could he explain to Arthur the toxic cocktail of terrorism, plague and climate change? For Arthur the weather may sometimes have made things difficult, but it had rarely been life threatening. Even the times of flood during his lifetime had been more of an inconvenience than a catastrophe and the idea that one man or woman could kill hundreds by blowing themselves up in a crowded place would be something he simply would not understand. The assassins of the past had been employed to kill in the same underhanded way, but never had any of them had any intention of dying with their victims.

Merlin scratched his head.

"It's complicated Arthur. There is war, but it is thousands of miles from our shores. However, men from these lands travel there to fight and as a result we are in constant danger of reprisal. The wars are based on religion and so it is almost impossible to find a peaceful resolution and so they rage on year after year. Until now we have lived with and managed the threat from these warring lands in the East but now, due to the changes in the weather patterns of the world, there is drought and famine and untold numbers of people are moving north, to find food and water. They cannot hope to survive in their own lands, but they bring with them a disease for which, at the moment, there is no cure.

Those who govern us are doing their very best to source a cure and are sending aid to those who are suffering, but there is much confusion and fear and at the moment, no-one seems to have a coherent or workable plan as to what to do next. This disease has not reached our shores yet, but it comes closer every day.

What this country needs is leadership, Arthur and you are the man to provide it."

Arthur did not look convinced.

"Am I?" he asked, "I mean, put me on a battle field and I know what to do, but I have no idea how to deal with illness. That's more your field than mine. And these religious wars you talk of. We both know that when religion is involved blood will always be shed. Look at the suffering of those who followed the old religion in my father's time. So many died and you, my friend, were forced to live in fear for years. During my years as king of Albion, I may well have learnt something of the art of diplomacy, but I cannot believe that there are not many with skills greater than mine. If they have failed to bring these wars to an end, do you really believe I can stop them?"

Merlin nodded.

"If anyone can, you can, Arthur. People will listen to you. With you back in the world, I will be able to use my magic openly and no-one will be able to ignore us."

"Is magic forbidden again?" asked Arthur, frowning.

"No. It's not forbidden. In fact the only people over eight years of age who even believe it exists are those who practice it. There are others like me, who walk the five kingdoms and many of them are the ones who have kept your name alive. However there are also those who practice the dark arts and if they had ever discovered me, then sooner or later they would have discovered this place as well.

All these years I have had to keep a very low profile. I have reinvented myself thousands of times and always sort to blend into the background. Trust me, it has been even more difficult than when I hid my talents when I first came to Camelot. In those days, discovery of my true nature would have only put my life in danger. However in the last thousand years, had the followers of darkness discovered me, then it would have been you and everyone in this cave who would have suffered."

He smiled.

"But now you are awake, I can be myself again. I will not have to hide any more!"

Arthur smiled too.

"No, Merlin, you will not have to hide. If I have anything to do with it, you will be the most important man in this land!"

Merlin laughed, "Aren't you forgetting yourself? I will be quite happy with a much lowlier position!"

Serious again, he looked straight at Arthur. "I have waited forever for you to wake up. I care nothing for position. All that matters is that you are awake."

He looked round the cave at the sleeping bodies.

"And now I think, I should wake the others, for I long to speak with them again."

Whereas when he had woken Arthur, Merlin had spoken quietly, even hesitantly, now his voice rang out.

As he spoke he moved rapidly round the cave, touching each person briefly as he passed.

Immediately, eyes opened and one by one his sleeping friends sat up.

All were initially confused, as they tried to understand where they were, but all too soon they remembered the circumstances that had brought them to this place.

Arthur got to his feet. All around him was a sea of disappointed and anxious faces. It was time to tell them the truth.

He clapped his hands.

"Everybody, listen to Merlin. He will tell you what has happened since we all went to sleep. You will be surprised…I certainly was. But listen well. Let him explain."

Merlin was just about to begin his explanation when Gwen let out a cry of delight.

"Bo…Merri!"

The two princes had been sleeping in a corner of the cave and only now, did Gwen recognise her sons among the knights.

The expression on her face filled Merlin with pleasure and he waited while the Gwen flung her arms around first one son, then the other.

Over Bohart's shoulder Merlin saw her mouth the words 'thank you'. Her delighted gratitude warmed his heart.

Finally however, Merlin managed to tell everyone the truth about their situation. Just like Arthur most of them were first amazed, confused and then disappointed.

All of them had expected to wake and continue the fight against the Saxons. They had expected to be given the chance to at least try and regain control of Camelot and to find out that their beloved castle was nothing but a pile of stones, was heartbreaking for all of them.

But gradually as they listened to both Merlin and Arthur, their spirits rose. They had all been given a second chance, a chance to live a whole new life.

"Now", said Merlin, "I want everyone to put on one of the grey cloaks over there in the corner. Wrap them round yourselves properly and use the hoods. I don't want anyone to know you are here just yet and if you wear the cloaks, you will not be noticed.

For the first time in fifteen years, it is snowing outside and it is bitterly cold. We have not far to walk and once we reach my house there will be food and drink for everyone.

I will go out first and check that the coast is clear. Then when I give you a signal, the rest of you will leave the cave and follow me down the hill."

Everyone obediently started putting on their cloaks and Merlin led them up the passageway towards the wall of rock.

At his command, the rock opened and a freezing draft of air blew through the gap.

Merlin pulled up his hood and went out into the snow.

Dawn had broken, but as Merlin walked quickly down the hill, what little light there was, seemed to drain from the valley as a black cloud blotted out the weak rays of the sun.

The weather forecast the night before had promised a break in the snow and bright sunshine. So why was it so dark?

A horrible feeling of doubt crept into Merlin's mind. Had he really woken his friends? Maybe he had fallen back to sleep after Ralph had woken him. Perhaps this was just a dream, prompted by talk of a white owl. Maybe it was a hallucination, something that he had conjured up just because he wanted it so much.

He bent down and picked up a handful of snow. It was wet and icy and it chilled his fingers to the bone. This couldn't be a dream. This was real. It was…..it had to be.

He took a deep breath and looked back to the way he had come.

Arthur stood there, already several paces from the entrance to the cave. His cloak was slung around his shoulders but he had not put the hood up, as Merlin had instructed.'

In that instant, the clouds blew away from the sun and suddenly a beam of light filled the valley. Arthur's light hair shone and his blue eyes sparkled in the winter sun.

He grinned at Merlin and held out his hands.

"C'mon Merlin, there's not a soul in sight and it's bloody freezing out here!"

He bounded down the hill towards Merlin.

"And," he added, 'I am absolutely starving. We will be having breakfast at your house, will we not?"

"Yes, yes. We will have breakfast and now I come to think about it, I could murder a cup of tea. I didn't have anything before I came out."

"Tea?" asked Arthur, "what's that? Some sort of mulled wine?"

"No it's a hot drink made with boiling water and leaves…..no alcohol"

Arthur made a face, "Water and leaves and no alcohol and the point of that is…. what exactly?"

"To make you feel refreshed and ready for the day. But if you don't like tea I have coffee."

"And is that mulled wine or perhaps some kind of Mead?"

"No. That is made with boiling water and ground beans."

"Beans, leaves…. may the gods save me! Will there at least be sausages?"

Merlin grimaced, "Er…there are some….enough for you anyway. It's just that I wasn't expecting so many guests. I can get some bread out of the freezer though, so we can have lots of toast. I've got plenty of Jam and marmalade or baked beans, if you'd rather."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

Maybe he should get Gwen to organise the breakfast. Merlin was clearly talking rubbish. But then, to be fair, this was a strange day and Merlin had always been a bit strange, even on a normal day.

He slung an arm round Merlin's shoulder and beckoned to Bohart, who in turn signalled to the others, still waiting in the tunnel.

"Gwen will help you with the breakfast," Arthur told Merlin, "so don't you worry about anything and if you just show me where you keep your wine, I am sure Melora can rustle us up something delicious."

Merlin shook his head, but inside he was laughing.

It really was ridiculous. All those years waiting and worrying and wondering what his friends would be like when they awoke and here they all were, exactly the same as the day they went to sleep.

It was just as if a thousand years had been but a single day.

And most important of all, it was real. The long years of waiting were over…over forever.

Now his life would begin again.

Arthur was back!

THE END


End file.
